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THORNTON ABBEY 



A SERIES OF 



LETTERS 



RELIGIOUS SUBJECTS, 



A scrupulosity of temper in the use of any lawful means to promote the spi- 
ritual or temporal welfare of mankind, receives no countenance either from rea- 
son or Revelation, or from the conduct of the best and wisest men. And when 
to this we add the zeal and diligence with which bad men (and eminently at th* 
present period) practise every device to spread universal mischief, who shall de- 
ny that it is allowable for every good man, nay, still more, that it is his duty, by 
every fair and practicable method, to diffuse good ; and when it is rejected in on* 
form, to try whether it may not find entertainment in another ? 

I I i I \ : . " ' . ELY BATES. 



.YEW-YORK: 



PUBLISHED BY WILLIAMS tf WHITING, 

AT THEIR THEOLOGICAL AND CLASSICAL BOOK-STO&E5 

N°. 118, Pearl-street. 

J. SEYMOUR, PRINTER. 

1809, 



70 



PREFACE. 



THE author of the following work was the 
late Mr. John Satchel, of Kettering. It is 
with pleasure I express not only my approbation 
of its leading sentiments, but the regard I feel 
for the memory of my friend. 

I was not intimately acquainted with him till 
within a few years of his death : but during that 
period I saw in him much to esteem. To seri- 
ous cheerfulness, frankness, kindness, and ge- 
nerosity, were added a lively imagination, a fer- 
tile invention, and a certain spring of soul, which 
would not suffer him to live inactive. What- 
ever his hands found him to do, he did it with 
his might. 

Having observed that much evil was convey- 
ed to the rising generation by the enchanting 
works of fiction, it was his wash to convey truth 
an4 godliness through that medium. His turn 
of mind was adapted to this manner of writing. 
His characters, though fictitious, were to him 
real. He would sorrow in their sorrows, rejoice 
in their joys, and frequently bedew his papers 
with tears. Being a close observer of human 
nature, he has exhibited a faithful representation 
of human life. 

In his youth he w r as much attached to Mr. 
Hervetj, and sometimes went to Weston-Fa- 
vel to hear him. After this an intimate friend- 
ship subsisted about twenty years between hirn 
and Mr. Abraham Maddock, an evangelical 



iv 

clergyman at Kettering, which continued till the 
death of the latter in 1785. Considering this, 
it may seem rather extraordinary that he should 
be so decidedly averse to religious establish- 
ments : but his dislike was not to persons, but 
things. 

He approved of many things in Glas and San- 
deman, but greatly disliked their controversial 
bitterness, and the scorn with which they treated 
persons whom he considered as great and good 
men, however in some things they might have 
erred. I have heard him say, " If you read 
Edzvards on the Affections, you will find the 
greatest part of what is valuable in Sandeman, 
without any thing of his spirit." He also re- 
marked, that many of the followers of Glas and 
Sandeman were men of a dissipated life, and 
feared that some of them were very little short 
of deists. His remarks on some of the pecu- 
liarities of Sandeman may be seen in letter xli. 
The substance of that letter was some years 
since sent to a friend in Edinburgh, who, taking 
it for a real conversation, printed it under the 
title of Serious Considerations addressed to Glas- 
ites : and other Congregational Separatists from 
the Church of Scotland, 

The present work is offered to the public, 
partly by the request of the author's friends, and 
partly as a tribute of filial affection. That the 
divine blessing may attend it, is the prayer of 
the readers well-wisher, 

ANDREW FULLER. 

London, 1807. 



THORNTON ABBEY. 



Mr. JAMES NEVILLE, a gentleman descended from 
a long train of ancestors, who had constantly adhered 
to the Church of Rome, after making the grand tour 
of Europe, returned to his native country. His father, 
who was a widower, having died in his absence, he de- 
termined to spend the remainder of his days in the 
enjoyment of a domestic life ; for which purpose he 
chose to occupy the family seat, a large Gothic building 
which was situated at Thornton, a village in the neigh- 
bourhood of Castle-Hampton. 

Mr. Neville, being a comely, well-bred gentleman, and 
very rich, found little difficulty in obtaining a wife. A friend 
of his about twenty miles distant, had a ward that was an 
heiress, who also was a member of the church of Rome : 
they soon became agreeable to each other, and were 
united in the bonds of wedlock. In the course of four 
years they were blessed with three fine children ; Wil- 
liam, who was the eldest, so named after his grandfather, 
Maria, and Eusebia. Mr. Neville having the misfortune 
to lose a most tender and accomplished wife at the birth 
of this last child, did all in his power to perpetuate her 
memory, by calling it by her name. 

Very little occurred for several years worthy of rela- 
tion. Mr. Neville chiefly employed himself in forming 
the minds of his children. He oft observed, that the ma- 
ny apostaeies, as he termed them, from the church of 
Rome, owed their origin to the want of early instruction ; 
and that the minds of youth uncultivated, may be compared 
to lands neglected by the husbandman, which receive all 
the seeds that are scattered at random by the winds. He 

A 2 



0 



seemed indeed to have it only at heart, that his children 
might inherit his religion as well as his estate, and that 
what he was pleased to call the Catholic Apostolic faith, 
might be transmitted to his latest posterity. He remem- 
bered with thankfulness the care which his parents had 
taken of his education; so that in a land filled with here- 
sies, and every day multiplying their number, he had ne- 
ver once swerved from the sentiments which they had 
taught him. 

The great affection he had for his children, made him 
determine not to marry again. My dear children, he 
would often say, I do but live for you : your happiness is 
the utmost bound of my wishes. Whenever the wea- 
ther permitted, he used to walk with them in his gardens, 
or in the fields, and point out the wisdom of God in the 
works of creation, and his goodness in providing for all 
his creatures. At other times he would extol the uni- 
formity of the church of Rome, contrasting it with the 
divisions and subdivisions of heretics. He w r ould also 
repeatedly ask their sentiments on every subject which 
he thought within the compass of their knowledge, and 
would reward those of them with books or money, who 
he judged had given the most pertinent answers. This 
was such a spur to the emulation of the young gentleman 
and his sisters, that they were constantly racking their in- 
vention to outvie each other ; and by this method there 
was not a sentiment of their father's which they did not 
so thoroughly imbibe and digest, as to make it their 
own. 

Their education was intrusted to a priest who resided 
in the family. He was a native of Florence, and had ac- 
companied Mr. Neville in his travels. This gentleman 
was well acquainted with the classics, and w r as of a tem- 
per kind and obliging. In a word, Antonio Albino, (for 
that was his name,) by his engaging manners had secured 
the respect of the family, and the entire confidence and 
affection of his pupils. 

Master Neville was a lover of learning, and possessed 



7 



a retentive memory ; so that at the age of fifteen, to 
Greek and Latin he had . added French and Italian, with 
some knowledge of the Hebrew : all these he acquired 
without thinking that learning was a burden. 

Mr. Neville was also very happy in his daughters, 
Maria, who was the eldest, w.as gay, lively, and of a ready 
wit, and might have been termed pretty before she had the 
small-pox ; but that dreadful disease robbed her of a 
beauty, which perhaps she thought too highly of. Euse- 
bia was of a modest, meek, and engaging temper. She 
was rather tall for her age, but exactly proportioned ; 
which, together with a fine open countenance, regular 
features, and a delicate complexion, made her the envy 
of her sex. These endowments are too often overvalued. 
Beauty is many times the gift of Providence to the proud- 
est, vainest, silliest people. This momentary excellence 
leads such persons to value and adorn the casket, while 
they neglect the jewel. They do not consider that it 
is the mind only which constitutes the perfection of our 
nature ; that exterior advantages are enjoyed by us in 
common with the brute creation ; and that in many of 
them we are far outstripped by the savages of the desert. 

Mr. Neville was constantly watchful to guard his daugh- 
ters against the errors too common to their sex. My 
children, he would say, a noble building requires sump- 
tuous furniture : yet I have seen many ladies with agree- 
able persons, whose minds and bodies have been the 
greatest contrast. How are we chagrined when we find 
these pretty things to be mere outside. Such may make 
many conquests, but they can retain those only who are as 
empty as themselves. Whereas if a woman have but a 
moderate share of this outside varnish, yet if we per* 
ceive her to be modest, discreet, humble, and caurteous, 
we are agreeably disappointed. A wise man judges such 
a one to be a proper friend and companion for life ; fit to 
be the mistress of a family, and likely to sow the seeds of 
piety and virtue in the tender minds of her offspring. 
Such a woman is a blessing to mankind in general, and 



9 



especially to the rising generation ; children generally- 
keeping that bent which is given them in their childhood. 

Thus did he take every opportunity of conversing with 
them on the most important subjects ; and the visible im- 
provement which they made in knowledge and obedience 
showed that his labour was not in vain. The feuds and 
animosities too common among children brought up to- 
gether, were scarcely known in this family ; and if at any- 
time peevishness took place of affability, a glance of the 
father's eye was sufficient to restore the former tranquilli- 
ty. He had indeed the art of being obeyed as implicitly 
as an eastern monarch, at the same time that he ruled with 
the greatest moderation and sweetness. 

Notwithstanding Mr. Neviile was of the Romish com- 
munion, he was every where well received, and his ac- 
quaintance was courted by the neighbouring gentry. He 
had an agreeable turn for conversation, and was of a ready 
wit : yet he never, by indulging the self-sufficient sneer, 
or the cutting repartee, gave pain to the meanest person ; 
nor could he patiently hear others make use of that cruel 
liberty ; justly observing, that he who can laugh at hear- 
ing a man abused, would find equal reason for mirth if he 
were to see him thrown into the dirt ; and that nothing 
can be baser than this malevolent disposition, since the 
best characters, and the most sacred things, may be dis- 
torted by false wit, and rendered the subjects of ridicule, 

He was easy of access to the poorest persons of his vil- 
lage, who ever found him ready to commiserate their dis- 
tresses, and to relieve their wants. He judged that no- 
thing was better calculated to bring them within the pale 
of the church than those arguments to their senses, which 
the very dullest were capable of understanding : and the 
event proved that he made a just estimate of human na- 
ture. 

When alone with his children, he would oft deplore the 
miseries that were brought upon this nation by its schism 
from the church of Rome. When men, he would say, 
once get out of the high road into crooked paths, it is no 



9 



wonder they should quarrel about which is the right way, 
since they are all wrong-. If the church of Rome be not 
the only true universal church of Christ, where are we to 
look for it ? Let common sense judge. Had Christ no 
church before Luther ? If he had, where did it exist, if 
the chuch of Rome were not that church ? What was the 
origin of this schism, which has had its reward in the di- 
vided state of all those who have been out of the pale of 
the church ever since ? It was the lust of an impious king ; 
and the covetousness of court sycophants, who with long- 
ing eyes beheld the possessions of the church, which they 
were willing to plunder under any pretext. The same 
reason keeps their descendants from returning to its bo- 
som. They are unwilling to restore their ili-gotten gain. 
From such causes what better effects could be expected ? 

0 my children, it is your highest honour that you are de- 
scended from ancestors, who, in this divided, distracted 
land, have uninterruptedly kept the faith. Transmit it, 
my dear offspring, to your posterity, as I have done to you. 
Could I think the contrary, it would be despair and death 
to me. You will meet with many opponents, who will 
speak evil of those things which they understand not ; but 

1 flatter myself you are able to defend yourselves against 
any common adversary. 

At a small distance from his house was a wilderness 
through which were cut many mazy walks, bordered on 
each side with » great variety of flowering shrubs and 
evergreens, and shaded by lofty oaks, limes ; and chesnuts. 
Here Mr. Neville delighted to walk in the summer months 
with Ms children ; for he seemed to enjoy nothing without 
them. 

One day, after they had been sometime in this cool re- 
treat, conversing about indifferent matters, My children, 
said he, do you meet with no rebuffs, or foolish pity on 
account of your religion ? I ask this, because I know the 
world, and that part of it especially where Providence has 
fixed our lot. 

I assure you, Sir, replied Maria, those who have hither- 



10 



to encountered us have had little reason to boast of any ad- 
vantage they have gained. The truth is, religion seems 
to be no part of the business of the polite world ; and the 
poor too frequently follow the example of the rich. It 
has been rare that any other argument has been used than 
ridicule, which, in the opinion of too many, is the test of 
truth. Persons, however, of this character, have learned 
to laugh at religion in general : it is no wonder therefore 
that ours does not escape their derision. 

My children, said he, I believe what you say, that your 
opponents have gained no advantage over you ; since, as 
Shakspeare says, Thrice is he arm\l ivho has his quar~ 
rel just. With regard to ridicule's being the test of 
truth, nothing is more false. The time is coming, when 
the laughter of those who assert it will be turned into 
mourning ; and when the righteous Judge will say to them, 
Behold, ye despisers, and wonder, and perish. It was 
foretold, that there should come, in the last day, scoffers, 
walking after their own lusts ; which prophecy is abun- 
dantly verified. These men talk of honesty, moral recti- 
tude, and the fitness of things; but their practice is too 
frequently the reverse. The two great springs of human 
action are fear and hope : these being once broken or ob-, 
structed, every part of our moral conduct is inevitably dis- 
ordered. The best of the heathens* such as Socrates, 
Plato, Tully, Seneca, and many others, so far as u -.y 
were influenced to lead a virtuous Ufe 7 were actuated by 
a faint hope of immortalitv. I wish these mockers were 
only to be found among those who have left the Catholic 
church ; but it is to be lamented, that these tares of infideli- 
ty have taken such deep root in the world, and have spread 
so far and .wide, that many, too many of them, have sprung 
up among ourselves. 

Pray, Sir, said Eusebia, of the many sectaries who are 
divided from the Catholic church, which do you think 
the worst ? 

My dear, replied he, of the many withered branches 
you see upon the ground, which do you think the worst ? 



11 



Alas 1 these heretical sectaries have all rent the seamless 
coat of Christ, and destroyed that uniformity which was the 
glory of the church for many ages. Instead of being, 
as formerly, under the bishop of Rome as the common 
bond of union, every one believes and does that which is 
right in his own eyes. If, however, I were to give the 
preference to any, it would be to the church of England. 
Her bishops dare not deny the uninterrupted succession in 
the see of Rome : their own ordination would be invalid, 
even in their own esteem, if they were to do this. But 
behold their inconsistency. Although they confess that 
ours is a true church, and consequently never re-ordain 
any priest who goes from us to them ; yet they have vi- 
olently rent themselves from this true church, and are, 
therefore, as I before said, only to be considered as in the 
same state with these withered branches and as lying un- 
der the fearful curse of St. Peter's successors. If they 
should say in their own defence, that there are some things 
among us which need reformation, we acknowledge 
it. All good men have prayed for the perfection, as well 
as for the peace of the church ; but this perfection they 
have found easier to be desired than attained. When that 
violent schism took place in the time of Luther, they call- 
ed it the Reformation ; but if you would know what kind 
of reformation it was, you need only look at the lives of 
the reformed. Where will you find among them those 
alms-deeds and acts of hospitality, that voluntary poverty, 
that renunciation of the world, and that mortification of the 
body, which are to be met with among us ? 

All these things, said Maria, are so obvious, that it is a 
matter of wonder with me, that they who abandoned our 
communion should continue to make any profession of 
Christianity. I conceive the guilt would have been very 
little more, if they had renounced the name as well as the 
thing. 

Yet so blind are they, replied he, to their own imper- 
fections, that every different sect of heretics thinks itself 
only to be right ; and they are such consummate deceiv- 



12 



e'rs, that many in thy time, of whom I hoped better things, 
have forsaken the flock of Christ to follow these blind 
guides. O my children ! that you may be guarded against 
every error, is the summit of my wishes : and be assured, 
that a failure in this point would make me abhor and detest 
you : I should think the roof accursed under which you 
dwelt, and the earth polluted on which you trod, nor would 
I ever see you more. I thus speak, because I would arm 
you on the right hand and on the left. 

The young ladies thanked their father for his tender 
care of them ; and told him, that if they should ever be so 
far lost to a sense of their duty and of their interest, as to 
become heretics, they desired him to show them no favour. 

At Barnwell, a village about four miles distant, lived a 
gentleman, whose name was Mr. Robert Barnwell. He 
was the son of a Jamaica planter, and was born in that 
island, where he resided with his father till he was in the 
twenty-fifth year of his age, except only five years that he 
had lived in England, whither his father had sent him, 
-when he was a boy, to be educated. 

Mr. Barnwell had risen from very small beginnings, 
his first occupation in Jamaica being that of a menial ser- 
vant to a planter ; who, perceiving him to be industrious, 
on leaving the island made him overseer of his planta- 
tion : after which, by a train of favourable circumstances, 
he at length arrived to considerable opulence. 

When the old gentleman arrived in England with his 
soiv, he waited a long while before he could please hinv 
self in a purchase ; for being a man who looked a great 
way before him, lie thought that in process of time some 
of his family might be ennobled. He determined, there- 
fore, to buy an estate, where the name of the village be- 
longing to it was sonorous, and of considerable length, that 
it might serve for a title. He was a man of such refined 
taste in this respect, that he would have thought five hun- 
dred or a thousand pounds well bestowed in an additional 
syllable. After long waiting in vain, fortune favoured him, 
as he termed it, in a way he never expected. The village 



13 

and lordship of Barnwell were to be disposed of, to pay a 
debt of honour contracted at Newmarket. He became a 
purchaser without hesitation ; for notwithstanding there 
%vas at least a syllable too little in the name, yet as it was 
the same with his own, he justly thought that it would give 
his family an air of antiquity. He would say sometimes 
to those with whoiti he was intimate, (for what is upper- 
most will come out some time or other,) Now, does not 
Giles Barnwell, Esq. of Barnwell, sound very well? And 
when they answered in the affirmative, which truth, as 
well as good manners obliged them to do, — .Yes, he would 
say, but Lord Barnwell, of Barnwell, would sound much 
better ; and who knows but some of my posterity may 
come to that honour, if I do not ? And even if I myself 
should be ennobled, as strange things as that happen almost 
every day. The old gentleman's foible was, with little 
reason, made the subject of ridicule by the wits of that 
time ; since the vain pursuits of mankind in general, are 
tit best but of equal importance. If he appeared more 
culpable than his neighbours, it was only owing to his being 
more sincere. Had they been as open, they would have 
been equally exposed to the shafts of satire. 

He now employed his time in building an elegant seat 
near the church, and in walling and planting a garden. 
He had almost completed his design, and was promising 
himself the peaceable enjoyment of the fruits of his labours 
for many years to come, when having drank pretty freely 
the preceding evening, in the company of several neigh- 
bouring gentlemen, who had come to visit him, he was 
found dead in bed, having been seized, as was supposed, 
by an apoplectic fit. 

Mr. Robert Barnwell, his only surviving child, had not 
been in the enjoyment of his patrimony above a year, be- 
fore he married a young lady whose name was Chauncey. 
She was the sister of Mrs. Worthington, the wife of Mr. 
Worthington, a West-India merchant, at whose house he 
resided when he was in London. Mr. Barnwell h^d four 

B 



14: 



children, three of whom died in their infancy. Miranda, 
the youngest, who was the only one that lived to years of 
maturity, was so named at the earnest desire of her mother, 
because Miranda was the name of an imaginary character 
in a book of devotion which Mrs. Barnwell had read with 
great pleasure. This lady died of a consumption, when 
her daughter was in her thirteenth year. She was a pious 
gentlewoman, and had taken much pains to instill the 
principles of religion into the tender mind of her child, 
A more than ordinary vivacity and liveliness of temper, 
together with a turn for company and amusements, caused 
her to profit but little from her mother's instruction ; but 
she was the darling of her father, who thought he saw 
every part of his own image impressed on his daughter. 

Mr. Barnwell was of the church of England, but thought 
it the duty of every person to remain where he was 
brought up. He looked upon dissenters, whom he termed 
sectaries, as a wrongheaded people : however, their con- 
tinuing of the same sentiments with their parents he con- 
sidered rather as their misfortune than as their fault. But 
with regard to those runagates, as he called them, who 
left the established church, he thought them beneath con- 
tempt ; and would sometimes say, and even swear, that if 
"he had been brought up a Turk or a Jew, he would not: 
have changed his religion. He would observe, that it was 
of no importance what a man believed, but that practice 
was every thing, and would often quote those lines of Pope, 

For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight ; 
His can't be wrong, whose life is in the right. 

Of all the productions of the press, none pleased Mr. 
Barnwell better than the drama. Here, he would say, we 
see the world in miniature, and find virtue and vice painted 
in their proper colours. He was -also fond of promoting 
the representation of plays among the young persons in 
his neighbourhood ; for he considered the stage as the 
properest place to form the manners of youth. He obser- 



15 



ved that there they gained a graceful attitude, an easy car- 
riage, a becoming confidence, and a just pronunciation. 

Miss Barnwell needed no incitement to things of this 
kind, as they were quite agreeable to the natural bent of 
her inclination. Yet, in the midst of all these pursuits, 
she received many checks from conscience, which, like 
an unwelcome visitant, would be oft intruding. The di- 
vine maxims which had been early inculcated by her pious 
mother, would frequently furbish matter for conviction, 
At such times she made many resolutions, that God should 
have some part at least of her time and affections. These 
promises being made through constraint, it is needless t® 
say that they were very badly kept. 

She was about nineteen years of age, when, as she was 
looking over her mother's library, she accidentally took 
down a quarto Bible, and, opening it, found a quarter of a 
sjieet of paper pinned to one of the leaves, which her mo- 
ther had written, as appeared by the date, but two days 
before her death. It contained the following words : 

Miranda, my dear child, the child of many prayers ! I 
am going into the presence of my dear Redeemer, where 
I have no doubt but I shall meet with a happy reception, as 
in him only has been my confidence. But alas, my love, 
I fear I am taking a long, an everlasting farewell of you and 
your poor father. A great and impassable gulf must for- 
ever separate us, unless God in his mercy should cause 
you, my dear child, to make this book your bosom friend, 
your daily companion. The words which it contains arc 
fhe words of God. Pray over every sentence. Here on- 
ly can you learn what he is ; what you are ; what you are 
papable of being in this world, through his word and Spi- 
rit ; and what both the righteous and the wicked will be 
during a long eternity. Farewell. 

Upon reading this paper, Miss Barnwell shed floods of 
tears. The dread that her dear mother's words should 
prove prophetical, and that she should indeed never see 
her any more, made a deep impression on her mind ; and 
$he made many vows and resolutions, that for the future 



16 



she would be a new creature, and entirely devoted to €*od 
and to his service. She appointed set times for prayer, 
and for reading the Scriptures, earnestly imploring the 
Majesty of heaven and earth to second her good endea- 
vours. But notwithstanding all her vigilance, she dis- 
covered so many defects in herself, arising either from the 
omission of duty, the commission of sin, or that propensi- 
ty which she had to vain company and trifling amuse- 
ments, that her heart frequently sank tmder the burden* 
She was loath to go backward ; yet numberless disappoint- 
ments and broken resolutions made her despair of getting 
forward. Instead of the ways of God being an easy yoke, 
and a light burden, she thought them the hardest yoke* 
and the heaviest burden. 

An elderly gentleman, named Clifford, frequently visit- 
ed at the house of Mr. Barnwell. He was a person who 
seemed to aim at being taken notice of in the world, by 
pretending to doubt of every thing ; and though, according 
to his ow T n sentiments, he had no certainty of being right 
yet no one could appear fonder of gaining proselytes. The 
design of his pretended doubtings being to discredit di- 
vine revelation, he would take every opportunity to affirm, 
that Moses and the Prophets, together with Christ and his 
Apostles, were impostors. Yea, upon occasion, this 
doubter could demonstrate, that a miracle had not been 
wrought since the creation of the world, if by the way it 
were created, which was also matter of doubt with him. 

It was the misfortune of Miss Barnwell to fall into the 
hands of this doubting, positive gentleman. He took an 
opportunity to give the conversation a religious turn, and 
began with showing, that every religion had its origin in 
the invention of some legislator, or priest, or both ; and 
that Christianity was an engine of the state. He then en- 
deavoured to prove, that men of liberal sentiments had 
always looked upon these things with contempt, they be- 
ing only calculated for the meridian of the vulgar. What, 
cried he, do you think of the speaking of Balaam's ass ; or 
©f Samson's throwing down a temple by mere strength j 



17 



fcrofhis carrying, the gates of Gaza? Miss Barnwell re- 
plied that she had not sufficiently considered those things 
to be able to defend them. She soon, however, retired to 
her closet, when the poison which had been poured into 
her ear began to operate. She fully assented to the doc- 
trine of her new teacher, and furnished herself with the 
following additional proof of there being no reality in rer 
ligion. I have, said she to herself, both fasted, prayed, and 
watched, and taken every method to become religious, and 
all to no purpose ; for while I have been engaged in this 
fruitless toil, I have resembled the fabled Sisyphus, who 
was condemned to roll a stone up hill, which continually- 
returned upon him. 

How glad was this young lady to be loosed from those 
restraints and fears, which she now thought were only fit 
to intimidate the vulgar. Like a deer escaped from the 
huntsman, she determined once more to mix with the 
herd, and to enjoy her former pleasures and her ease again. 
She made the tiial : pleasure and a round of dissipation 
w T ere the only objects of her pursuit: but she soon disco- 
vered that this plaister would not cover the sore. At many 
times she would cry out, O what a wretch am I ! Without 
a God ; without hope of immortality ! My utmost wish is 
to die like a beast, without the poor expectation of living 
one thousandth part so happily I If I had the wealth of the 
Indies in my possession, I would part with it all to be a 
snake or a toad 1 At other times she would reflect that she 
must now either openly avow herself to be an infidel, or 
put on the mask of hypocrisy, and pretend to be what she 
was not, which last me could not bear to think of. I must 
never, she would say, alter my condition, nor impose such 
a wretch on any man for a wife. Besides, how, or in what 
manner, could I instruct my children ? I am all doubt and 
uncertainty. If there be a God, I have no knowledge of 
him. I neither know for what end I came into the world* 
nor what will become of me when I go out of it. 

In this deplorable state of mind she continued more 
than half a year, neither looking into any books calculated 

B 2 



IB 

to satisfy her doubts, nor conversing with any person for 
that purpose. The attempts she had made to be religious 
without success^ were, hi her esteem, proofs equal to a de- 
monsttfaftton, that all religions consisted of nothing but 
priestcraft, and that the precepts of Christianity were a 
collection of impossibilities which no one could perform. 

This disorder of her mind affected her in such a manner, 
that she was no longer the same. There is so intimate a 
connexion between the soul and body, that one cannot suf- 
fer without the other. Miss Barnwell had hitherto enjoy- 
ed an extraordinary share of health : but now the roses 
withered in her cheeks ; her sprightiiness forsook her, and 
nothing was left but a melancholy dejection and lowness of 
spirits. The Miss Nevilles, and several of her young ac- 
quaintance, visited her, and endeavoured to remove that 
pehsive'ness Which brooded upon her countenance ; but 
the metlicrfres which they used were unfit for her disease. 
Mr. Barnwell, whose very rife was wrapped up in that of 
his daughter, w r as exceedingly alarmed, and called in the 
assistance of the faculty ; but all they could prescribe was 
of no use. 

Mrs. Worthingttfn, the sister of Mrs. Barnwell, w r as at 
ttiistime upon a visit at her brother-in-law's. Since the 
death of her husband, she had resided at a house which 
she had at Islington. She was a very religious gentle- 
woman, of the Independent denomination. She was 
brought up in the church of England ; but having mar- 
ried a dissenter, she chose to accompany her husband to 
file meeting; at first out of complaisance, but afterwards 
from principle. Mrs. Worthington endeavoured for 
sdme time to find out the cause of her niece's disorder, 
without effect ; but that which she had so long sought for 
in vain, she at last discovered in the following manner. 
She had oft observed her to walk for an hour or two 
together in a retired part of the garden ; and as her anx- 
ious desire to become acquainted with, and if possible to 
remove the cause of her niece's indisposition, whatever 
it^ight be, excited <her narrowly to Nvatch ewy paft : of 



19 



her conduct, sh-e took an opportunity at one of these times 
to conceal herself behind a yew-hedge near die place? 
through a small interstice of which she could perceive 
that her mind was greatly agitated. After walking back- 
ward and forward for some time, at last she stopped and 
cried out, lifting up her hands to heaven, O thou great 
Unknown, illuminate, I beseech thee, the darkness of a 
worm, if I am not beneath thy notice. 

Mrs. Worthington stole softly from the place, having 
now no doubt what was her niece's disorder. After 
much deliberation, she determined not to mention it to 
Mr. Barnwell, with whose character she was perfectly 
acquainted ; nor did she think it prudent to say much at 
present to her niece. She had before proposed to Mr. 
Barnwell, that his daughter should spend the summer at 
her house, to which he had consented ; and being now 
desirous to depart, that she might have an opportunity of 
probing Tier -niece's wound, they set off in a few days for 
Islington. 

On the road, Mrs. Worthington every now and then 
attempted to converse upon some religious subject ; but 
Miss Barnwell declined talking as much as possible. 
Once indeed she said, And don't you think, Madam, that 
the penmen of the Scriptures were as liable to err as we 
are ? No, my child, replied Mrs. Worthington ; they 
were influenced by the Spirit of the God of Truth, to 
speak those things only which are true. And pray, 
Madam, said she, how do you know that ? You must con- 
fess, my dear aunt, I have asked you a question that you 
can by no means answer. What you have said may be 
your opinion, and I doubt not but it is ; but another per- 
son may be of a contrary opinion, and who can tell which 
of the two opinions is right ? 

I have no cause to wonder, Miranda, said her aunt, at 
the disorder of your mind, since you manifest yourself to 
be an unbeliever. Alas, I fear you are among the num- 
ber of those, whose minds, like a troubled sea, cast up 
miee^nd diift ; and concerning whom God hath declared, 



£0 



that there is no peace to them. You seem to suppose, 
that the infidel has as good ground to believe Divine Reve- 
lation to be false, as I have to believe it to be true. Indeed 
you are sadly mistaken. I have as strong evidence of the 
truth of Revelation, as I have that I am now in your com- 
pany ; for though the evidence be not of the same kind, 
yet it is equally convincing. The Scriptures, to them 
who have an eye to see, and a taste to relish their excel- 
lency, carry conviction of their divine origin in almost 
every line. Like their Almighty Author, they need no 
testimony from man. I beg, therefore, if you have any 
objections to the truth of God's word, that you will let me 
hear them. 

Indeed, Madam, replied the young lady, I scarcely 
know what I doubt, or what I believe. Of this only I am 
certain, that I am unhappy ; and your proving to me the 
truth of Revelation, if you could do it, would only plunge 
me deeper into misery, or, if I may quote Scripture, tor- 
ment me before the time. But I had rather say nothing 
about these things, the very mentioning of which height- 
ens my distress. 

Mrs. Worthington perceived the case of her niece to 
be much more deplorable than she had at first imagined. 
She said no more, however, at this time, since she rightly 
judged that it would be in vain to make use of any argu- 
ments, taken out of the Scriptures, to a person who did 
not believe those divine writings. The good woman 
wept, and offered up many ejaculatory prayers to God ; 
for though she herself had no power to open the blind 
eyes, and to unstop the deaf ears, she well knew that with 
Him nothing is impossible. 

Miss Barnwell had several friends and acquaintances in 
London, who came to visit her at her aunt's. They took 
her with them to all the public places, and did every thing 
in their power to make her stay agreeable. But the fear 
of a hereafter was gall and wormwood in these cups of 
pleasure. Whatever infidels may boast of, they have not 
half the assurance of the falsity of Revelation to wjiich 



21 



they pretend ; they labour indeed to disbelieve its authejn* 
ticity, yet are distressed with ten thousand fears lest, after 
all, it should be true. This was exactly the case of this 
young lady. She would have been thankful to beg her 
bread from door to door her whole lifetime, could she 
have had the consolation of being certain that there was 
no God — no Christ — no hereafter. Her aunt took every 
opportunity to lay before her the various evidences of the 
truth of the Christian religion, but without effect ; since 
it is with great difficulty we are brought to believe that to 
be true, which we wish to be false. Besides, she had al- 
ready made so many unsuccessful attempts to be a Chris- 
tian, that she looked upon it as a fruitless undertaking ; 
for what the Holy Spirit has declared, will ever be found 
true upon trial, that when the Ethiopian can change his 
skin, and the leopard his spots, then they also who have 
been accustomed to do evil, may learn to do good. This 
lady did not yet understand, that the tree must be first 
made good before it can produce good fruit. The true 
state of her case was this. Like many others, she had 
endeavoured to establish her own righteousness ; which 
while she was doing, God graciously laid the reins on her 
neck, and left her in some measure to herself, that she 
might perceive her natural depravity, and her inability to 
keep his law. 

Several weeks elapsed without any alteration in her for 
the better. At length one night, after she had retired to 
her chamber, she took out of her pocket a volume of plays, 
as she thought, to pass away the time before she went to 
bed, as she was not disposed for sleep ; but having laid 
down her book in the kitchen, she had, through mistake, 
taken up a volume of sermons of the same size, which be- 
longed to one of the maids. Curiosity led her to look at 
the titles of the sermons, and at the texts from which they 
were preached ; and her attention was attracted by one 
from these words : (Rom. iii. 20.) Therefore by the deeds 
of the law there shall no fiesh be justified in his sight ; for by 
the law is the knowledge cf sin. She chose to read this 



sermon, because she could not conceive how a persoii 
could he justified any otherwise than by obeying God's 
righteous law. The author began by showing, that justi- 
fication is a, law-term, and is applied to those, who, being 
Ivied by the laws of their country, are found innocent of the 
crimes laid to their charge ; and that in this sense no sin- 
ner can be justified at God's righteous bar, because all 
have sinned and come short of the glory of God. His se- 
cond observation was, that all those whom God justifies, o? 
proclaims righteous, must necessarily be sinners and un- 
godly persons, because the law condemns aii the posterity 
of Adam, that every mouth may be stopped, and all the 
world may become guilty before God. He proceeded to 
show, that the whole scope of Divine Revelation is, that 
God has sent his Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, audi 
both condemned and punished sin in his flesh, that every 
sinner, whose understanding the Holy Spirit has opened 
to believe cordially this report, may be justified from all 
things from- which he could not be justified by the law, 
which, as the apostle observes in the text, can do nothing 
more than discover to us our transgressions. 

This was a time never to be forgotten. This young 
lady now beheld such a glory in the whole plan of salva- 
tion by Jesus Christ, that she could have truly said with 
the apostle Peter, I believe and am sure that thou art the 
Christ* the Son of the living God ; or with Nathaniel, Thou 
art th3 Son of God ; thou art the King of Israel. The evi- 
dence of the truth of Christianity, like an overflowing de** 
luge, bore away every doubt, Before, she had seen no 
form nor comeliness in Christ that she should desire him ; 
and the glorious gospel of his grace and mercy to guilty 
sinners, had been a sealed book to her. In her former at- 
tempts to please God, the blood of Christ had made no part 
of her religion ; or at most had been considered only as an 
auxiliary. But now, the language of her soul was like that 
of Paul, Yea doubtless^ and I count all things but loss for the 
excettency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord : and 
her utmost wish, like that of the apostle, was to be found 



if 

in him, not having her own righteousness. It is impossi- 
ble to describe her joy, for it was unspeakable. She ap- 
peared to herself as one snatched from the gates of hell, 
&nd set at the gates of heaven : and had not this exuberant 
transport vented itself in floods of tears, it would probably 
have dissolved her frame. She had such magnificent views 
©f the fulness and freeness of redemption, that if the sins of 
the whole human race had centered in her own person, she 
would have considered the blood of Christ as a sufficient 
atonement for them all. Prayer and praise became her 
constant employ, whether she was at home or abroad, asleep 
or awake. 

Mrs. Worth in gton scon perceived the great change 
which had ta"ken place in the mind of her niece ; for such 
things will soon manifest themselves, even though we 
should do all in our power to keep them secret. The 
good lady exceedingly rejoiced, and did not forget to re- 
turn thanks to God for the answer he had given to her 
prayers. She gave her many excellent instructions, and 
found her employment in reading some of the best author^ 
on divine subjects. She also took her to hear several 
gospel preachers of different denominations, opportunities 
of this kind offering themselves almost every clay in the 
week ; so that she lost in a little time all the bigotry in 
which she had been educated. She closely applied herself 
to study the grounds of the Reformation from Popery, as 
well as the reasons for dissenting from the Church of 
England, with which reasons she was fully satisfied. Not- 
withstanding she knew how much her father abhorred all 
those who left the church, and turned Presbyterians, by 
which common name of reproach he called all Dissenters, 
yet she determined to have one thing only in view, name- 
ly, to follow the dictates of her conscience so far as it was 
enlightened by Divine Revelation, and to leave the event 
with God ; for like the apostle Paul, she did not count her 
life dear unto herself, so that she might finish her course 
with joy. She did not conceive that any evil could be 
equal to a state of unbelief and alienation from God, hav- 



24 



ing had dreadful experience of what Solomon had in view 
when he said, The spirit of a man wpfl sustain his infirmity ^ 
but a wounded spirit u*ko can bear ? 

Mrs. Worthington, walking one day with her niece in 
the fields, said to her, I form great hopes, my dear Miran- 
da, that yours will prove a real conversion to God : I say 
real ; for conversion, like other excellent things, has its 
counterfeits. Many followed Christ, concerning whom we 
read, that they went back, and walked no more with him. 
In the parable of the sower, likewise, some are represent- 
ed as receiving the word with joy, who yet endured but a 
while. I will not however conceal from you, that they did 
not understand the word which they pretended to believe. 
Our Lord himself assigns this as the reason of their apos- 
tacy. They manifested their ignorance and unbelief, when 
their present ease, the cares of the world, and the deceit- 
fulness of riches, in a time of trial, outweighed in their 
judgment the things of eternity. Temptations of this kind, 
however, are the lot of every Christian, that the trial of 
©ur faith may be much more precious than of gold that pe- 
risheth. 

Nothing, Madam, replied Miss Barnwell, has so much 
allayed my happiness, as the fear of relapsing into my for- 
mer unbelief: not even death itself would be half so 
dreadful. 

I am glad to hear it, said Mrs, Worthington ; I trust this 
is that childlike fear, w r hich is implanted in the breasts of 
all who are born from above, and which is intended by the 
Divine Donor to be a preservative in time of danger. Every 
creature of God has some defence against its enemies. 
The majestic lion, and the timid hare, are alike provided 
for by their beneficent Creator : to the one he has given 
strength and courage ; to the other swiftness and fear. As 
the fear therefore of the hare is its security, so God has 
put his fear into the hearts of his children, that they may 
not depart from him. The martyrs of Jesus were no fond- 
er of sufferings and death than other mortals. They only 
chose racks and gibbets, the teeth of wild beasts, and the 



2*5 



burning of their bodies as smaller evils. The favour qF 
God on the one hand, and his just displeasure on the 
other, outweighed every other consideration. 

I pray, said Miranda, that God may number me among 
his children, and that I may endure to the end. 

It is my earnest desire, replied her aunt, that that may 
be the case. In the meantime I would have you observe, 
that the manner of a person's conversion weighs nothing 
with me. If God in his mercy bring a poor sinner un- 
feigned!} 7 to believe the gospel, because he perceives the 
finger of God in every line ; if the gospel be to him a 
precious gospel, and Christ a precious Christ ; the man- 
ner in which those sentiments are conveyed by the Spirit 
of God cannot be improper. Some are led to sit at the 
feet of Jesus by slow and almost imperceptible degrees ; 
whilst others, like you, are brought to heaven by the gates 
of hell. Yet the means and the end are the same in both, 
and only differ jn degree ; since all who are born from, 
above, understand and approve the Scriptures as they speak 
of Christ. Salvation by one who was crucified, is no long- 
er disregarded, or esteemed as foolishness ; but it is ac- 
counted by them the power of God, and the wisdom of 
God. They are renewed in knowledge, after the image 
of him who created them : they approve of the tilings 
which he approves, and hate the things which he hates. 
They take his yoke upon them ; and are determined, by 
his assistance, to make his revealed will, so far as they un- 
derstand it, the rule of their faith and practice. 

O that I may be enabled, said this young lady, to follow 
the Lamb whithersoever he goeth, through good report, 
and through evil report ! In his favour only there is life. 
He is the ark of my rest, and unto him I cannot but return ; 
since, like Noah's dove, I can find no place upon eartfc 
which is not overflowed by the curse. 

Yes, my dear, replied Mrs. Worthington, thorns and 
thistles, troubles and disappointments, is it bringing forth 
to all its children ; but to us it is an enemy's country, a 
parched wilderness, and a barren desert, Nevertheless. 

C 



26 



he who hath delivered us from spiritual Egypt, will guide 
and guard us on every side ; he will cause us to drink of 
the smitten rock, and to feed upon the true bread which 
came down from heaven. These things were types or 
shadows of the superior blessings which God's people 
were to enjoy under the gospel dispensation. The Lord 
of hosts will fight all our battles for us, as he did for the 
Israelites, and will make us more than conquerors through 
him that loved us. Let every Christian, therefore, cry 
out with Moses, If thy presence go not with us, take us not 
vp hence.— I foresee, my dear Miranda, that you will have 
many difficulties to encounter, but remember, that we can 
both do and suffer all things through Christ strengthening 
us. After the conflict is over, let us join the sweet singer 
#f Israel in songs of praise to him who smote great kings*, 
for his mercy endureth for ever. The world and Satan, 
like the enemies of the Israelites, will endeavour to ob- 
struct our passage to the heavenly Canaan ; and we shall 
be able to gain a victory over them, only through the 
same Jehovah, who is the Captain of our salvation. I 
have long known your father ; he not only has no taste for 
divine things, but he is enmity against them. 

I thought, Madam, replied Miss Barnwell, that you had 
this in view : but God is able to turn the heart of the 
fathers to the children, as well as the heart of the children 
u> the fathers. 

He can do every thing, answered Mrs. Worthington ; 
but in the mean time there will be need of great prudence 
cn your part, as well as of a becoming resolution. You 
must join the wisdom of the serpent with the harmless- 
ness of the dove. You are not, I trust, the same person 
you were ; old things are passed away, and all things are 
become new ; yet your father will expect you to behave 
as you have always done. I don't say that every amuse- 
ment is inconsistent with Christianity ; but this I say, that 
every thing is unlawful which we cannot do to the glory 
of God. Our pleasures, as well as every other thing we 
engage in, we should endeavour to make subservient to 



27 



our eternal interest. How innocent, for instance, is this 
walk, as well as pleasant and healthful ! How much 
is it to be preferred to those guilty pleasures, by which 
thousands are ruining their health and fortunes 1 Here 
every creature of God, animate and inanimate, is teaching 
some useful lesson to those who are disposed to learn. 
That poor, despised ass, the poverty of whose owner 
obliges him to feed by the way-side, on thistles and other 
weeds, reminds us of the meek and lowly Son of God, 
riding upon this animal, and entering triumphantly into 
Jerusalem amid the acclamations of his followers ; which 
was a prelude to his entering upon his heavenly inheri- 
tance by the ignominious death of the cross. The useful, 
harmless sheep, whose flesh feeds us, and whose fleece 
secures us from the cold, puts me in mind of the Saviour 
of the world, who was led as a sheep to the slaughter ; 
while the meek and innocent lambs call to my remem- 
brance the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the 
world. The noble, well-proportioned horse, I consider as 
the gift of God, to ease our labour, and to bear part 
of our curse. The cow I behold with pleasure and 
gratitude. When I meet those useful creatures in an 
evening returning to their owners, their breath sweet as the 
rose, and their udders distended with balmy neetar, I view 
them as one of the kindest gifts of Providence ; since here 
the poor have provided for them a cheap> salubrious, and 
delicious repast : a repast, how infinitely superior to cost- 
ly dainties, contrived with a view to gratify a depraved ap- 
petite ; in which gratification too often consists the sad 
pre-eminence of riches. Wherever we are, we canilct 
look around us without perceiving the goodness and mu- 
nificence of the great Creator ; of that immense Being, 
who is good to all, and whose tender mercies are over all 
his works. Those little birds, though they have neither 
storehouse nor barn, are liberally provided for by an un- 
seen hand. One would be almost tempted to think that 
they were sensible of the goodness of him who feeds 
them, and that they were warbling songs of praise. At 



28 



least, they teach us, my dear, to bless that God, who hitbr 
erto has helped us, and who is the author of all our mer- 
cies. The trees, also, the succulent herbage, and the bilk 
and vallies standing thick with corn, proclaim that every 
creature is subject to the will of Jehovah ; otherwise* 
what is in itself so unlikely to provide food for man and 
beast as the clods' of the valley, the dirt that we trample 
under our feet ? Contemplations like these are not only 
"innocent, but exquisite gratifications: they refresh the 
spirits, gladden the heart, and leave no sting behind 
them. 

I desire, Madam, said Miss Barnwell, to engage in no- 
thing wherein I cannot pray for and expect the divine 
blessing. As Jesus is all my salvation, so may a conform- 
ity to him be my earnest desire. 

It is your reasonable service, my child, replied Mrs.. 
Worthington : nor indeed is there any other medium, by 
which we can distinguish a real faith from one that is 
counterfeit or nominal. 

Thus did this excellent lady take every opportunity to 
establish her niece in the great truths of the gospel ; and 
the mind of this young lady, like that of Lydia, was opened 
and influenced to receive the good seed of the word; so 
that she soon made a great proficiency in divine know- 
ledge. 

Mr. Barnwell kept a noble house, and was visited by 
the best company, as they would be termed by the world. 
But his daughter had so far lost her inclination for things' 
of this kind, that she frequently told her aunt there was not 
any thing which she dreaded equally to returning home. 
While she was meditating on the difficulties she had to 
encounter^ her father arrived in town, with an intention to 
take his passage in the first ship that should sail for Ja- 
maica. The overseer of his estate in that island being 
dead, his presence was necessary, that he might superin- 
tend his affairs. 

After waiting in London about a week, he embarked in a 
vessel, the captain of which was his intimate friend. This 



29 

sudden departure of a father whom she tenderly loved, 
was a great grief to Miranda. But her aunt consoled her, 
by observing, that she looked upon it as a kind provi- 
dence ; since, before his return, she hoped she would be 
better established in the faith, and more able to cope with 
those difficulties which she had reason to expect would be 
the result of her change of sentiment. 

As Mr. Barnwell was unable to conjecture how long he 
would be absent, he dismissed all his servants, except the 
housekeeper, gardener, and groom, and left his plate at the 
house of Mr. Pink, an acquaintance of his, who lived in 
the parish. He desired his daughter to continue with her 
aunt till his return. He remarked, that she had not re- 
covered her vivacity ; but this he imputed to some re- 
mains of her disorder : for it was impossible that Mr. Barn- 
well should conceive, stranger as he was to real religion, 
that any one should be cheerful and happy, if he were not 
gay, brisk and merry. 

Miss Barnwell spent her time at her needle, in reading 
the Holy Scriptures, in attending upon divine worship, and 
in conversing with her aunt, who was a lady of an excellent 
understanding. 

Of alllier acquaintance in the countiy, there were none 
whom she esteemed equally to the Miss Nevilles : indeed 
their regard for each other was sincere ; and as they lived 
but four miles asunder, and the road was good, they were 
frequently together. From these young ladies she re- 
ceived several letters upon common-place subjects, and 
about the news of the day, to which she returned answers 
of a similar kind. But when she had been with her aunt 
about nine months, she ventured to touch on a religious 
subject. The following is an extract from her letter : 

u You tell me the country is mopish and melancholy 
without me. But indeed, ladies, if you expect that kind of 
pleasure in my company which you formerly experienced, 
you will be mistaken. I am no longer the Miranda Barn- 
well I was. Eternity, my dear friends, is coming on wiih 
hasty steps, to take place of time ; our fleeting moiioents ; 



so 



therefore, ought to be better employed than in vain amuse- 
ments. I pray that my dear young friends may escape the 
iv rath to come ; and that they may be convinced) that no- 
thing can recommend them to the divine favour, but the 
obedience and sufferings of the Redeemer ; since they 
only are the righteousness, in which a guilty sinner can 
appear at the awful tribunal of God with comfort. I too 
well know, that you will think it impertinent in me to un- 
dertake to teach you in things of this nature ; but I should 
think any longer silence inexcusable in the sight of God : 
and henceforth it is He whom I intend first and chiefly to 
please. 

u The singular respect I have for you, ladies, induces me 
to pray the Father of mercies, that you may be led to ex- 
amine upon what your hope of eternal life is founded. Be- 
lieve, me, my dear friends, or rather believe the word of 
God, that it is not a penance prescribed, nor an absolution 
pronounced, either by a Catholic or Protestant priest, which 
can take away sins ; that can only be effected by the blood 
of Jesus Christ." 



LETTER I. 

From Miss Eusebia Neville to Miss Barmvett* 

MY DEAH MISS BARNWELL, 

We received your kind letter, the conclusion of which 
as much surprised me, as it displeased my sister. I be- 
lieve I may safely confess to my friend, that she and I are 
so far agreed as to have one hope of eternal life Yes, my 
dear Miranda, I am, through the mercy of God, fully con- 
vinced, that nothing can recommend me to the divine fa- 
vour but the obedience and atonement of the Redeemer. 
I perceive that this truth is the great outline of the Old 
and New Testament, however it may be rejected by tjie 



31 



wise and prudent of this world. I beg you will pray for 
me, that I may be led into all truth by the Holy Spirit, and 
that fortitude and resolution may be given me. I feel my- 
self to be very weak ; and should utterly despair, did I not 
hope and trust that the grace of Christ will prove sufficient 
for me, and that his strength will be made perfect in my 
weakness. If my brother, my dear brother, were at home, 
I could unbosom myself to him ; but I dare not take that 
liberty with my sister, who is extremely violent against 
every sentiment which she esteems heretical. The same 
prejudice was in me : but now r I believe, that no opinion 
ought either to be embraced or rejected, because it is held 
by this or that party. 

I have now 7 no doubt that there are many Christians 
among protestants, although formerly I should have con- 
sidered any one as a heretic who had asserted it. Having 
been acquainted with Protestants of a very bad kind, when 
I compared their lives with that strictness and zeal for God 
which were visible in my own family, you will not wonder 
that I preferred our own religion to yours. I can however 
perceive^ notwithstanding all this strictness in the repeti- 
tion of prayers, in fasting, in almsgiving, and in every 
thing enjoined by the church, in which my honoured pa* 
rent is unwearied, that yet something is wanting. Yes, 
Miranda, through the mercy of God, I have discovered, 
that a person may give all his goods to feed the poor, and 
his body to be burned, and yet be destitute of that true chari- 
ty; or love to God, which is essential to religion. And not 
only so, but the love of God itself has many counterfeits. I 
used to derive my notions concerning God and Christ from 
pictures and images, endeavouring to work up my mind t© 
a love and veneration of them as thereby represented. 
But I thank the father of mercies, that I now perceive my 
error, and am convinced that the works and the word of 
God are the only true representation of the invisible Jeho- 
vah. The. love of God's mind and will revealed to the 
children of men, is the genuine love of God ; and the 
love of what Christ said and did, and of what he is now 



SI 

doing, is the love of Christ. — i spoke in this manner some 
time past to my sister ; and she thinking it a reflection on 
images, pronounced it to be heresy. By this argument I 
have been frequently confuted. I am indeed a coward. 
I don't know how I could be a martyr for Christ: but ray 
hope is, that my God will give me strength equal to my 
trials. 

I lately told my sister, that I doubted whether the con- 
secrated elements of bread and wine were proper objects 
of worship, admitting that they were transubstantiated into 
the real body and blood of Christ : since it was God mani- 
fest ill the flesh who Was the proper object of divine wor- 
ship, and not the flesh in which he was manifested. 

You make me tremble, Eu^ebia, cried she : such here- 
tical thoughts ought to be repressed. 

Are we, my dear sister, replied I, never to see through 
-our own eyes: Are we never to judge for ourselves? 
Ought we not to examine whether a thing be false, before 
we consider whether it be heretical ? 

By no means, replied she. This would be to begin at 
the wrong end. We ought first to examine whether it 
be heretical ; and if we find it to be heretical, we ought 
then to conclude that it is false. Would it not be pre- 
sumption to set up our own private judgment against the 
determinations of the church r 

I was silent. Perhaps it was my duty to be so ; as 
there was no appearance that by continuing the conversa- 
tion, I could render her any service. 

Your letter, my dear friend, gave me much pleasure ; 
fcr I have here no one to converse with, except a poor 
man and his wife, named Livingstone. These I have dis- 
covered to be real Christians ; and their conversation has 
been very instructive to me. They are now in the lowest 
circumstances, but have seen better days ; though he 
would scarcely allow the propriety of that expression. I 
once intimated something of this kind to him, and he re- 
plied, that his God and Father had chosen his portion for 
*.im, and that ho believed that station to be the best, all 



33 



things considered, in "which providence has placed him, 
He is a Dissenter, and goes every Sunday to hear a person 
at Barnwell whose name is Lowe, and he speaks very 
much in praise of his minister. 

0 Miranda ! I should be happy if my dear parent did 
but know and love the truth as well as Thomas Living- 
stone, even if he were In the same circumstances. Alas ! 
what is the most exalted sphere of life to us, if we are ig- 
norant of the true God, and enemies to salvation by the 
death of Christ ? My dear father is all that I could wish 
as a man. His benevolence to the poor, of all denomina- 
tions, is far beyond any thing I have seen, and equals any 
thing I have read of. But alas, as faith without works is 
dead, so works without faith are dead also. 

1 am exceedingly happy in the company of Thomas 
and his good wife, and whenever I can steal an hour in the 
evening I spend it with them. How magnificent appears 
in my eyes the little cottage wherein they reside. There 
dwell, say I to myself, two heirs of eternal glory 7 ; while 
many a superb mansion is disgraced by being the habita- 
tion of the sons of Belial ; — of men, who evidently have 
their portion in this life. O that God may be my portion ! 
This is all 1 ask. A little cottage like this of my friend 
Livingstone's, with the divine presence and blessing, I 
trust I should not consider as too humble a dwelling. That 
place cannot be dishonourable where God resides. 

I beg you will purchase for me the Nonconformists^ 
Memorial. I saw it at a house in our village, and borrow- 
ed it for a short time. Among these sufferers for the 
cause of Christ, I found Christians of a very different 
stamp to those I had hitherto been acquainted with -in the 
church of England. I have not sufficient fortitude to in- 
form my dear father of my change of sentiment, lest it 
should overwhelm him with grief. Whatever befall me, 
spare, O my God, I beseech thee, my dear parent ! It is 
my consolation that thou canst do every thing. 

I need not desire my friend to show 7 this letter to no per- 
son except Mrs. Worthington. I have long known her 



34 



to be a prudent lady. Would it be right for me to take 
the liberty of requesting a letter from her ? Please to di- 
rect your letter to Thomas Livingstone, as well as the 
books, for which I shall thankfully repay you. 

Pray present my kind respects to Mrs. Worthington 5 
and accept the same from, my dear Miranda, 
Your affectionate friend, 

EUSEBIA NEVILLE, 

LETTER II. 
From Mrs. Worthing! on to Miss Eusebia Xr^iiie. 

MY DEAR YOUNG LADY, 

I AM unable to describe our joy at the receipt of your 
letter. My niece was so delighted, that her pleasure 
could no otherwise vent itself than by a flood of tears. She 
has received great mercy at the hands of God, and it is na- 
tural for such to rejoice when a subject is added to the Re- 
deemers kingdom. The deliverance of a sinner from the 
power of Satan gives joy to the angels of God. They 
know the importance of the divine favour, and the dread- 
ful nature of the divine displeasure. 

It is the duty of every disciple of Jesus to take up his 
cross and follow him. The christian is not, however, 
without his reward ; for to those who forego any worldly 
advantage for his sake, our Lord has promised a hundred- 
fold more in this present time, and in the world to come 
life everlasting. And although he has permitted many of 
his servants to be put to a violent death in the defence of 
his cause, the support which he has afforded them in those 
fiery trials has far outweighed all their sufferings. Where 
shall we find, among the votaries of festivity and mirth, 
that real joy which was experienced by Paul and Silas 
when their feet were fastened in the stocks ? The thoughts 



35 



of suffering for Christ ought not to move us, since every 
condition in life is that only to us which God is pleased to 
make it. 

My counsel, therefore, is, that you commit yourself to 
the protection of the Almighty. Do that which appears 
to be your duty ; learn that duty from the Scriptures ; 
and be not anxious about the consequences. Meditate on 
the eleventh chapter to the Hebrews; remember the 
three children in the fiery furnace ; and consider that the 
Lord's hand is not shortened that he cannot save, nor his 
ear heavy that he cannot hear. 

I rejoice that you are in such good company as that of 
Thomas Livingstone and his wife. Pray give my kind 
love to those friends of the Redeemer. I observe, with 
pleasure, your willingness to be contented with as humble 
•a dwelling as that of those good people. This disposition 
is right ; since we do not know what an adherance to the 
Saviour may cost us. 

My niece has bought the Nonconformists' Memorial 
for you. I must beg your acceptance of the works of 
Archbishop Leighton. He was a pattern of humility, and 
of love to Christ and to the souls of men. But that good 
man did not see the nature of Christ's church or kingdom, 
which, not being of this world, cannot be governed by 
worldly maxims. The moment the alliance commenced 
between church and state, antichristianism was established, 
and the man of sin was exalted into the throne of him, who 
is the only Lord and Lawgiver of his people. 

My dear niece is happy in her mind, and her health is 
much improved. She has learned that best of lessens, to 
joy in God through our Lord Jesus Christ : but I shall 
say the less on this subject, as she intends to write to you. 

Cannot you come and stay with us two or three months ? 
It would give us great pleasure, and might not be disad- 
vantageous to you. 

I commend you to God, and to the word of his grace, 
and am, my dear young Lady, 

Your sincere friend, 

MARY WORTHINGTON. 



36 



LETTER III, 

From Miss Barrvwell to Miss Eusehia Neville. 

MY DEAR EUSEBIA, 

I HAVE read your letter with very great pleasure. O 
my friend, if we examine what is called the Christian 
•world, how few shall we find who so far understand and 
believe divine revelation as to be convinced that Jesus is 
the only Saviour of guilty sinners, and who manifest that 
they are in earnest, by yielding an unreserved submission 
to his government ! I rejoice that this is your case, and I 
would humbly hope my own likewise. Here, my friend, 
we may lay the reins on the neck of Ambition. However 
vast our expectations, or unbounded our wishes, they will 
be gratified beyond our utmost conception ; since it has 
never entered into the heart of man to conceive what God 
has prepared for them that love him. I frequently wish 
for the arrival of that happy time, when I shall see him 
whom my soul ioveth as I am seen of him, and know him 
as I am known of him. In the meanwhile, what have we 
to hope or fear from the sons and daughters of the earth ? 
We must not expect that they will treat us better than 
they did the Lord of life and glory. No one, however, 
can hold up his hand against us without his permission. 

I know my dear Eusehia has much to fear from her fa- 
ther ; not more, however, than I have to fear from mine# 
But say. will these things bear to be put in the balance 
against the favour of God here, and the enjoyment of him 
hereafter ? They are not worthy to be compared with the 
glory which shall be revealed in us. When we begin to 
turn our backs upon the world, and to set our faces Zion- 
ward, we ought daily to expect some cross or other; and 
we must be willing to carry it, even as the Redeemer car- 
ried his, and as the saints in glory have carried theirs. A 
crown is prepared ; but the road to it is by the cross. In 



37 



a Word, if we are Christians, we must not only be willing 
to be saved by the work finished by the Redeemer upon 
the cross, but we must also enter his kingdom, as he en- 
tered it, through much tribulation. Whether, therefore, 
our names be cast out as evil by Catholics or Protestants, 
the difference is small ; and I pray that neither of us may 
be discouraged above measure ; since thousands of the 
children of God have testified, that reproaches for the 
name and truth of Christ, together with prisons, racks, gib- 
bets and flames, are much alleviated by those divine con- 
solations which the Redeemer affords to his suffering: ser- 
vants, and which are infinitely preferable to the most pros- 
perous circumstances of those who have their portion in 
this life. 

I have used no argument, my dear Eusebia, to induce 
you to leave the church of Rome. Whatever you find in 
that community that is agreeable to the word of God, con- 
tinue to embrace ; and whatever is contrary to it, reject. 
The last indeed maybe attended with the great displeasure 
of your father and sister ; but if God have given you an 
understanding to know him that is true, he who is the 
chiefest among ten thousand, and altogether lovely, will 
appear so amiable to you, that you will esteem even the 
reproach you meet with on his account more than all the 
treasures upon earth ; yea, my friend will not esteem her 
life dear, if she must either part with it, or be disobedient 
to his commands. 

I wish soon to hear from you again. Be assured that I 
am, my dear Eusebia, 

Yours in our common Father and Friend, 

MIRANDA BARNW^ELL, 



38 



LETTER IV. 

From Miss Ensebia Xeville to Mrs, Worthington, 

DEAR MADAM, 

I THANKFULLY received your kind present together 
wkb the book which I wished my friend to procure for 
tne. I have at present looked very little into the works of 
the good archbishop : but wherever I have read, I have 
found a true spirit of piety, joined with great knowledge 
©f the subject on which he treated. 

I desire my friends to pray for me, that my faith and 
hope may be strengthened, and that I may not faint in the 
day of adversity. In your kind letters, for which also I re- 
turn thanks, you labour to make me understand how un- 
worthy the sufferings of the present time are to be com- 
pared with the following glory. But alas, how little have 
you said ! How little could angels say upon this subject 1 . 
O that time could mend its pace, that I might put off this 
body, and enter into that world of everlasting felicity. But 
if I must abide in a world so much unlike that to which I 
am travelling, I pray that I may not be left to dishonour 
my Lord, by doing or submitting to any thing that is con- 
trary to his will, through the fear of those that can only kill 
the body. 

I am obliged to confess to you, my friends, that I can= 
not see my way clear at present to renounce the religion in 
which I have been educated. It is true, that in a long series 
of years, the gospel has been gradually corrupted among 
us : but is the religion of Protestants uncorrupt ? You, my 
dear friends, will not affirm it. Education makes a lasting 
impression on young minds. You will not wonder there- 
fore when I tell you, that as soon as my friend Thomas 
Livingstone has answered one objection, another springs 
up in its room. Had I the pleasure to be with Mrs. Wor- 
thington, or Miss Barnwell, I should ask them ; 



39 

1. Where the church of Christ was before Luther 4 
-2. Which of all the numerous sects of Protestants is the 
true church ? 

3. Whether a center of unity is not wanting among Pro- 
testants ? 

4. Whether to prevent confusion, public interpreters of 
Scripture be not necessary ? especially as the apostle St. 
Peter tells us, that no prophecy of the Scripture is of any 
private interpretation. 

My friend has answered these questions several times, 
and it is possible very properly; but old prejudices, he 
observes, are rooted up with great difficulty ; and I have 
reason to believe it. However, I would not on any account 
leave the religion of my ancestors entirely, without the 
most undoubted proof that it is the divine will that 1 should 
do so. But should it ever appear plain to me, that I must 
either abandon the church of Rome, and submit to be ab- 
horred by my friends, and to be turned into the wide world, 
or displease my Lord and Saviour, I pray that I may not be 
so far lost to a just sense of my true interest, as to require 
a moment's consideration which to prefer. But I dare not 
confide in my own strength. I remember St. Peter's 
confidence, as well as his fall, which naturally succeeded it. 
Indeed, my dear friends, I am many times distressed with 
fears, lest when it comes to the trial, I should imitate those 
persons who went away, and walked no more with the Re- 
deemer. 

Apprehensions also of a more alarming nature, if possi- 
ble, frequently distress me, namely, lest the word of God 
should be a cunningly devised fable. When such horrid 
temptations have invaded my mind, my only relief has been 
to pour out my souJ in prayer to God. Tranquillity, and a 
well-grounded hope of the truth of the Scriptures, have 
generally ensued : but new storms have frequently suc- 
ceeded these calms. 

I am greatly obliged to you, Madam, for your kind in- 
vitation. I should have no doubt of being happy in such 
agreeable company : but my father, and sister, and father 



40 



Albino our priest, set out this morning for Bath, where I 
expect thern to stay six weeks or two months ; so that I 
only am lef. to keep house. 

When I write to either of my friends, they must consi- 
der it as to both. Pray give my kind love to my dear Miss 
Barnwell) and accept the same from, dear Madam, 
Your much obliged friend, 

And very humble servant, 

EUSLB1A NEVILLE, 



LETTER V. 

From Mrs, Worthington to Miss Eusebia Neville, 

ZvfY DEAR YOUNG LADY, 

ThE glorious views you have of the felicity which awaits 
the friends of the Redeemer, cannot be indifferent to them 
who also hope to enjoy those blessings, which no eye hath 
seen nor heart conceived, except in a partial and inade- 
quate manner. The love of God shed abroad in our hearts 
by the Holy Spirit, and the pleasure we derive from obe- 
dience to his commands, are an earnest of our inheritance, 
and a foretaste of the happiness of that kingdom where 
our work will be our reward. 

I pray for you, my dear friend, that you may never do 
any thing deliberately to dishonour the cause of Christ. 
Having put your hand to the gospel plough, you cannot 
look back but at your peril. Remember Lot's wife. We 
are embarked in a good cause : and although, from the 
violence of the winds and waves, we may apprehend that 
ourselves and our cause are sinking, there is one with us 
in the vessel who can again say? Peace, be still. Your fear 
that you should go from Christ, and walk no more with him, 
God has put into your heart, lest you should depart from 
him. It operates like the fear of the disciples, who said. 



41 



Lord save us, we perish. Every thing is a blessing, how- 
ever painful it may be, which leads us to a throne of grace. 
Were it not for our calamities, God would have much less 
of our company. 

The dreadful suggestions of Satan, that the Scriptures 
may prove a fable, are very distressing. But console your- 
self with reflecting, that they are not only more or less 
experienced by Christians in general, but that they are 
among the all-things that work together for their good* 
Many have been induced, and even compelled, through 
such temptations, to be fervent in prayer, and diligent in 
searching the Scriptures, which have never sustained any 
dishonour from an impartial and judicious examination. 
Speculative unbelievers are far less numerous than prac- 
tical : the transition, however, is easy from one to the 
other. Every unregenerate man is an unbeliever ; but the 
strong man armed seldom disturbs his subjects with doubts 
concerning the truth of a religion which has no practical 
influence upon them. When inquisitive unbelievers 
search the Scriptures, they do it, either in hopes of prov- 
ing them to be entirely false, or with a determination to 
reject such doctrines as are contrary to unsanctifled reason s 
and the god of this world blinds their minds, lest the light 
of the gospel should shine unto them. 

The Old Testament is the foundation on which the New 
is built ; and they will stand or fall together. To-morrcw 
is the thirtieth of January, a day observed with much so- 
lemnity by many persons in the church of England. 
Should this service continue for a hundred ages, it would 
be a proof of the existence and sufferings of Charles I, 
Do not the Passover, and other Jewish festivals, equally 
prove the truth of the historical facts to which they owed 
their origin ? The Jews in every country continue to com- 
memorate those facts ; and as well might we deny the gun- 
powder-plot, an annual commemoration of which is main- 
tained throughout England, as dispute those divine deliv- 
erances which are annually and universally celebrated by 
the descendants of Jacob. The Lord's supper ajso is a 

D 2 



42 



standing proof, not merely that he was crucified, but like- 
wise that he foretold his crucifixion, and appointed this 
ordinance as a memorial of it. When our Lord died, the 
number of his disciples was ahout a hundred and twenty. 
It is incredible that so many men should have agreed to 
commemorate frequently the crucifixion of their Lord, in 
professed obedience to his command, if such a command 
had never been given. 

Please to give my kind love to Thomas Livingstone and 
his wife. I shall inclose something in this letter to alle- 
viate their sufferings in this inclement season. 

That God may strengthen and support you to bear every- 
thing which he shall permit you to suffer for his name, is 
v he prayer of, my dear young Lady, 
Your sincere friend, 

MARY Vv 7 ORTHlNGTON\ 



LETTER VI. 

From Miss Barnwell to Miss Eusebia Ntville, 

MY DEAR EUSEBIA, 

IVIy aunt, who has a very great regard for you, desired 
me to answer that part of your letter which contains your 
doubts, whether you ought or ought not to leave the church 
of Rome. This was doing me very little honour, since 
she told me there was no difficulty attending it. For, said 
she, they must be very indifferent scholars indeed in the 
school of Christ, who cannot demonstrate that national 
churches are in their own nature unfriendly to Christian- 
ity. 

The good confession which our Lord witnessed before 
Pontius Pilate was this, My kingdom is not of this world. 
His church, which is his kingdom, he has upholden in the 
midst of the nations, as he supported the children of Israel 



43 



in the wilderness ; his servants have always dwelt alone/ 
and will never be reckoned among the nations. 

!. You ask, Where the church of Christ was before Lu- 
ther ? 1 ask, in return, where is it now ? And I answer my- 
self, that there are three members of this church at Thorn- 
ton : Miss Eusebia Neville, and our good friends Thomas 
Livingstone and his wife. The Redeemer has many 
thousands scattered over Great-Britain and Ireland, and 
the neighbouring nations, known by various names of re- 
proach, who are marked with his seal, supported by his 
arms, and kept as the apple of his eye ; and, however they 
may be reviled and hated by the world, not a hair of their 
heads will perish- My friend, I dare say, has heard of 
those heretics, the Hussites in Germany, the Waldenses 
and Albigenses in the valiies of Piedmont and the south 
of France, and the Wickliffites in England. We have 
reason to believe, that all the persecuted professors in 
those times, with very few exceptions, were real Chris- 
tians : for hypocrites, in general, leave the profession of 
religion, when there is neither personal safety, nor ease, 
nor honour, nor riches attending it.— Your next question 
is, 

2. Which of all the numerous sects of Protestants is 
the true church? In answer, I need only ask you, which 
of the seven churches of the lesser Asia was the true 
church ? You will reply, that most, if not all of them, were 
both praiseworthy and blameworthy. And so it is with 
regard to the churches of Christ in these kingdoms ; 
though I fear too many of them are like the Laodiceans, 
who said they were rich and increased with goods, and 
had need of nothing, and knew not that they were wretch- 
ed, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked. The 
case is this : the church of Christ in these nations has 
long had peace ; professors are in a sleepy frame ; the ene- 
my has sowed tares among the wheat ; and there are ma- 
ny hypocrites in Zion. This is the calamity of God's 
children in this day ; for they must have a cross to carry 
of some kind or other. That society of Christians, there- 



44 



fore, is* most to be commended, whether it be great cv 
small, where the laws of Christ are best understood and 
observed, and where the gospel is least corrupted by tra- 
dition, old wives' fables, and false glosses. — You further 
ask, 

3. Whether Protestants do not stand in need of a cen- 
ter of union to supply the place of the bishop of Rome ? 
I answer, the Redeemer is the only center of union to his 
people. They are entirely upon a level. There is no in- 
ferior among them ; and as Christians, they have no su- 
perior but him who is the head of all principality and pow- 
er. They are united to the Redeemer, and to each other, 
by their love to him, and to the truth which testifies of 
him. He is their prophet to teach them, their priest to 
atone for their iniquities, and their king to rule over them. 
They dare not unite themselves to any other head, nor call 
any man master upon earth ; for they have a master in 
heaven, their Lord and lav/giver, who only has dominion- 
over his servants: and if any usurper of their Lord's au- 
thority should command them to break his laws, it be- 
comes them rather to lay down their lives than dishonour 
him by a base compliance. When the nations of this 
world put on the profession of Christianity, the Antichristia» 
spirit which had before worked secretly in a desire of pre- 
eminence, became rampant, and was as terrible as a dragon. 
From the moment that the clergy were raised by Chris- 
tian kings (as they were called) to honour, wealth, and 
power, the history of the church has been little other than 
a history of the struggles of ambitious men. Every one 
wanted to lord it over his brethren. But at length, after 
many struggles for wealth and power, the bishop of RomB 
obtained the ascendency, and became the center of union* 
the head of the great body of Antichrist, or of those men 
who called themselves Christians, though they possessed 
neither the truth nor the spirit of Christ. And although 
the bishop of Rome has lost his authority in several coun- 
tries of Europe, yet his spirit and temper will reign, as 
long as a corrupt Christianity shall be propagated by a 



45 



dignified clergy, who derive their power and authority 
from the kings of the earth. These are the spiritual mer- 
chants who are represented in the book of Revelation as 
trading in the souls of men, and when the judgments of 
God shall come upon Babylon the Great, the mother of 
harlots, on account of her having been a scourge to God's 
people, these merchants who have been made rich by her, 
shall weep and wail on account of her destruction. 

If you think it strange, my dear friend, that the ruling 
powers in every Christian nation, should have fallen into 
the same error of supporting a proud and mercenary 
clergy, and of suffering them to be briars and thorns in 
the sides of God's people, we can only say that it is agree- 
able to the divine prediction, in the book of Revelation, 
the kings of the earth are represented as having one mind, 
so far at least as to give their power and strength unto the 
beast. Ah, Eusebia, if I were a pope, or arch-bishop, or 
lord-bishop, knowing what I know, I should soon destroy 
the ensigns of my authority, and return to a private sta- 
tion, however mean and despicable that station might be. 

But you will ask me, Why the Antichristian powers are 
represented as a beast ? I answer, Because of their bloody, 
dreadful, and tyrannical rule and dominion. The Re- 
deemer, on account of his just, meek, and merciful go- 
vernment, is represented as a lamb, 

This Antichristian society, is also called the Man of 
Sin, to distinguish it from the New Man, or from the 
family of the Redeemer, who are created anew in Christ 
Jesus, or after the image of him who created them. This 
false church is represented as a Harlot, and the Mother 
of harlots, in opposition to the true church, which is the 
Bride, the Lamb's wife. Her illicit connexion with the 
kings of the earth is sometimes called the Alliance be- 
tween Church and State. When the kings of the na- 
tions put on the Christian name, their subjects, at their 
command, became Christians nominally likewise. We 
need not wonder that these people blended their heathen- 
ish customs and idolatry with a nominal Christianity, nor 



46 



that their priests should graft their former ambitious, 
covetous, and murderous practices on their new religion* 
This church, therefore, is represented as a woman riding 
upon a scarlet-coloured beast, full of names of blasphemy, 
having seven heads and ten horns, denoting the powers of 
the earth bv which she was supported. And the woman, 
it is said, was arrayed in fiurple, and in scarlet colour, and 
was decked with gold, and precious stones, and pearls ; and 
&he had a golden cup. in her hand, full of abominations and 
pithiness of her fornication ; and ufion her forehead was a 
name written, Mystery, Babylon the great, the mother of 
harlots, and abominations of the earth. And I saw, says 
the apostle, £fe woman drunken with the blood of the saints, 
and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus ; and when I 
saw, I wondered with great admiration. Rev xvii. 4—6. 
And well might the apostle wonder, a Christian persecu- 
ting church being one of the most monstrous things in 
nature. 

Pr*y, Eusebia, tell me, what churches have been drunk- 
en with the blood of the saints beside national churches ; 
or what church upon earth has upon its forehead the 
mark of that mysterious Babylon, except those who are 
in spiritual alliance with the kings of the earth. The 
time will come, when those kings shall hate the false 
church, and shall make her desolate and naked ; that is, 
shall resume the possessions with which they have en- 
dowed her. It is then the friends of Jesus may expect 
that prophecy to be accomplished in their favour, wherein 
it is foretold by Isaiah, that kings shall be their nursing- 
fathers, and queens their nursing-mothers; which pro- 
phecy seems to denote, that the civil powers will be so 
far influenced by the Spirit of God in their favour, as to 
protect them in their undoubted right of worshipping the 
great Lord of all, agreeably to the rules prescribed in his 
word. 

Lastly, I ought to remind my friend, that there are 
more numerous and more important differences among 
those who have popes or kings for the bond of their union. 



47 

than there are among the followers of the Lamb ; for, in 
fact, the latter have all drunk into one spirit, and their 
differences are either about words, or are otherwise com- 
paratively small. — In your last question you ask, 

4. Whether it is not necessary that there should be 
public interpreters of Scripture ? I answer, It is necessa- 
ry ; and such are God's gifts to his church. He only can 
make his servants able ministers of the New Testament. 
Therefore' our Lord commands his followers to pray the 
Lord of the harvest, that he would send labourers into his 
harvest. But observe my friend, that all such are taught 
of God ; and that a college (as human nature now stands) 
is not well calculated to teach our youth Christianity : for 
experience shows, that a great number of youth trained up 
together corrupt one another. 

But, you tell me, Peter says, that no prophecy of the 
Scripture is any private interpretation. To this I answer, 
that the apostle's inference is sufficient to convince an 
unlearned reader that it is a wrong translation. Read the 
words in the following manner, and his reasoning will be 
just. Knowing this frst, that no prophecy of Scripture is 
of private impulse ; for prophecy came not of old time by 
the will of man, but holy men of God spake as they were 
moved by the Holy Spirit. The apostle meant, that the 
prophets did not work up their minds into a ferment, or 
speak things at random, but that what they delivered was 
the mind of the Spirit of God, w r ho inspired them to say 
what they did. 

Your clergy say justly, that the church is the pillar and 
ground of the truth, and the only infallible interpreter of 
Scripture here below. The next thing which they ad- 
vance is, that they are the church. Then comes the in- 
ference ; to wit, that their interpretation of Scripture is 
infallible. This is weak reasoning. The church, un- 
doubtedly, is the best qualified of all human societies to 
interpret the Scriptures, because all its members are born 
of water and the Spirit, or the word and Spirit of God? 
and have been taught that which no man can teach his 



48 



neighbour, whatever name they may go by among rnes, 
or however they may be despised and persecuted by that 
false church which is supported by the scarlet-coloured 
beast. You and I, my dear Eusebia, should have much 
to fear from that quarter, did we not know that greater is 
he that is in us, than he that is in the world. Fear not, 
my friend ; these sons of Anak, formidable as they may 
appear, shall be bread for us : for if the Lord do indeed 
delight in us, because his Son has chosen us for the lot of 
his inheritance, we may be certain that he will give us 
that good land, the heavenly Canaan, though it is possible 
we Ynay enter it through much tribulation, which is com- 
paratively a matter of small importance. I know, Euse- 
bia, that we have both reason to expect that we shall be 
disowned by our parents ; but let us remember that we have 
a portion to live upon. Our Lord has told us that our hea- 
venly Father knoweth we have need of food and raiment. 
That knowledge is our security. May he be our support, 
who clotheth the grass of the field, and feedeth the young 
ravens ; then we shall never want any thing that is for our 
real advantage. 

We shall be glad to hear how long you have entertain- 
ed your present sentiments, and what method God took to 
give you divine knowledge. I believe that the poor man 
you have mentioned, and whom you appear so justly te 
esteem, is very able to instruct you in the fundamentals 
of our holy religion. Pray give my kind respects to hina 
and his wife. 

I am, my dear Eusebia, 

Your sincere friend, 

MIRANDA BARNWELL 



49 



LETTER VII. 

From Thomas Livingstone to Mr^ Wcrthingtcn. 

DEAR MADAM) 

M\ r wife and I received your noble present, for which 
we bless God, and thank our kind benefactress. It came 
very seasonably, as we have had the misfortune to lose our 
cow, and this sum will both buy me another, and a good 
load of hay ; and milk is a great blessing in a poor man's 
family. My poor wife wept at the death of our cow, and 
told me we should never have another ; and I had reason 
to fear that that would be the case : but our gracious 
father has provided for us much beyond either our hopes 
or deserts. I rejoice, also, because I know that this, my 
dear friend, is fruit which will abound to your account s 
it is bread cast upon the waters, which you will find after 
many flays. 

That very worthy young lady, Miss Eusebia Neville, 
read to me the letters which she had received from you 
and your niece, with which I and my wife were exceed- 
ingly deiighted. No part of your letter gave us greater 
pleasure than that, wherein you prove the truth of the 
facts related in the Old Testament, from the festivals ap- 
pointed by Gcd to commemorate them. A whole nation 
would not have agreed to expend their time and property, 
that they and their children might remember events 
which never happened. Other divine ordinances convey 
the same instruction. Without revelation, we cannot ac- 
count for the origin of circumcision. But we there learn, 
that there was a twofold design in that institution, It was 
intended both to keep the Israelites a distinct people, and 
to typify the circumcision of the hearts of believers. 

The death of Christ proves the legal sacrifices to have 
been of divine origin. Had they not referred to his death, 

E 



50 



they would have had no design visible in them. They 
prefigured his death, as the prophecies predicted it. 

The great atonement for sin was made by the Lamb 
of God at the time of the passover ; and thus the Jews 
fulfilled their own scriptures. Was it casual that the 
paschal lamb was eaten, and the Redeemer crucified, on 
the same day ? One would imagine it to be impossible 
that any person should believe these things to have been 
accidental. Must we not shut our eyes against the truth 
if we deny that the often-repeated promise has been ful- 
filled, that in the seed of Abraham all the families of the 
earth should be blessed ; as well as the numerous pro- 
phecies that the Gentiles should partake with the Jews of 
the blessings of the Messiah's kingdom, and in a much 
greater degree ? What could induce as wise a man as 
Moses to relate the offering up of Isaac, if the history- 
were not true ? And if it was true, did not God intend 
thereby to shovV to Abraham what he had determined to 
do respecting his own well-beloved Son ? — But I ought 
to remember that I am writing to a person who is able 
to instruct me. However, she will not despise the weak 
attempt of the least of the servants of Jesus Christ to es- 
tablish the truth of the Scriptures ; from a total unbelief, 
or at least a partial belief of which, proceed all the here- 
sies which are in the world. 

In my conversation with Miss Neville, I frequently en- 
deavour to confirm her in the belief of the Scriptures; 
for there it is that the wicked spirit makes his attacks upon 
her, as he does upon many young converts. She had nu- 
merous convictions before her conversion of her being a 
sinner, and she pacified her conscience by confessing her 
sins to the priest, by receiving absolution, and by determi- 
ning' to offend no more. " But in reading Fox's Acts and 
Monuments of the church, I was convinced," said she, 
" that I was an unbeliever, and that I had trusted in my 
own righteousness I now desire, and shall ever desire, 
to be found in my beloved Lord, not having my own right= 



51 

eousness, which, in my own sight, is so imperfect that I 
count it but dross ; what then must it appear in his eyes 
who searches the reins and hearts 

I forbear to enlarge upon this pleasing subject, because 
she intends to give you an account of the mercy of God in 
calling her to the knowledge of himself. Poor child i she 
is dreadfully apprehensive of the consequences of her- fa- 
ther's knowing that she has forsaken the religion of her 
ancestors. He is a man that would be an ornament to any 
religion. His compassion and liberality know no bounds : 
nor is his benevolence confined to persons of the Romish 
religion. He seeks out the abodes of misery, and endea- 
vours to alleviate every distress. In hk devotion, I have 
reason to believe that he is constant and fervent. To his 
servants he is a parent rather than a master : and though 
he takes care-, of his affairs, and sees that his servants are 
diligent and faithful, he neither rules with rigour, expects 
any I hing unreasonable, nor reproves with bitterness. His 
commands are so mild, and are mixed with so much po- 
liteness, even to the meanest person who works for him, 
tl. it one would be ready to imagine he was suing for a fa- 
vour. His children have been admirably educated. He 
never permitted any bickerings or contentions to arise 
among them, observing, that they often sow the seeds of a 
hatred or an indifference which continues through life. 
He discouraged in them a proud conceit of themselves, 
and a haughty contempt of their inferiors. He detested 
idleness, and used every effort to accustom his children to 
diligence. Idleness, he would tell them, is no more the 
privilege of the rich than of the poor ; it being the parent 
of poverty and rags to the one, and of ignorance and dis- 
ease to the other. 

I could fill many pages, Madam, with the character of 
this excellent man, even although I were to confine myself 
to things which I have seen. And these things are good 
and valuable as far as they go. Even where they proceed 
from a self-righteous and self-dependent principle, they 
are good and profitable to men, and are infinitely to be 



52 



preferred to these vices which have been the curse of man- 
kind. But the trua Christian is he who gives a cup of 
cold water to a friend of Jesus because he belongs to him ; 
and who has the love of Gjd shed abroad in his heart, 
which is a principle of action which unregenerate men 
are unacquainted with. 

Notwithstanding what I have said of Mr. Neville, I can- 
not add that he appears to be under the guidance of divine 
revelation On the contrary, he seems to be entirely 
under the direction of father Albino and the church of 
Rome. Christ has taught us to call no man master on 
earth. We ought, therefore, to follow no one, any fur- 
ther than he appears to us to follow the great Head of 
the church. 

Mr. Neville is truly a worthy man ; very inoffensive, 
humane, and charitable ; but blindly attached to the Ro- 
mish religion. His zeal would be commendable, if it 
were directed by the word of God. Thousands, who are 
zealous, think they cannot fail to be accepted by their Ma- 
ker. They suppose that all which is required of them is 
to do what they imagine to be right. It is true that, where 
divine revelation has never appeared, the light of reason is 
the only guide ; but in countries where the Scriptures are 
known, every person is in a state of condemnation who 
does not implicitly and habitually submit to them in the 
general tenour of his conduct. This submission is the 
Shibboleth which distinguishes Christians from unbeliev- 
ers. 

I believe that Miss Eusebia Neville is as much afraid 
on account of the priest as on account of her father. The 
old gentleman has spared no pains in her education, and 
has a parental affection for her. She fears, therefore, that 
her leaving the pale of the church will be a shock too great 
for him to bear. 

I have almost filled my paper, and must therefore con- 
clude with congratulating you, Madam, on the wonderful 
deliverance which God has wrought for our young friend, 

I have had some difficulty to convince her that the Ro- 



mish church is the Antichristian society spoken of in the 
Revelation; not because she did not perceive a great 
number of errors in it, but because she thought other 
churches to be as bach I believe Miss Barnwell has taken 
an effectual method to remove every remaining doubt, by. 
showing my friend that religious establishments are in 
their own nature Antichristian. Pray give my kind love 
to that young lady, and accept my most sincere thanks for 
the favour conferred upon, dear Madam, 
Your grateful, most obedient, 

And very humble servant, 

THOMAS LIVINGSTONE. 



LETTER VIII. 

From Miss Ensebia Neville to Mrs. Worthington. 

DEAR MADAM, 

I RECEIVED your kind letter, together with that of my 
dear friend Miss Barnwell, and I thank you both for them. 
I have the happiness to agree with you, as does also my 
friend Thomas Livingstone, as you will perceive by his 
letter, which at his desire I have transcribed for your in- 
spection I have not altered the language much ; the 
ideas not at all. 

I need not tell you, Madam, that Thomas possesses a 
good natural understanding, which he had an opportunity 
of improving in his. youth, by reading a variety of authors. 
He was the servant of an elderly gentleman, who employed 
him several hours in a day in reading to him, and who had 
so fine an ear, that he knew-if at any time he did not under- 
stand his author, and made him repeat the passage till he did. 
After his master's death, Thomas married the housekeep- 
er, and they took a little farm of thirty pounds a year, 
' Having five children, who are all either married or at ser- 

E 2 



54 



\ice, it Pequired great industry to preserve their iittte 
pittance. But the worst misfortune he ever met with 
was the inclosing of the fields of the parish where he 
lived. Two gentlemen undertook to rent the whole, in 
consequence of which he and eight more were thrown out 
of their business, six of whom embarked with their farni-* 
lies for Pennsylvania, where he has heard they live ex- 
ceedingly well. He would have gone too, if he had had 
money enough to pay for his family's passage. Not being* 
able to procure a little farm, and hearing that there was a 
small cottage to be sold in this village, (which is the place 
of his nativity,) he laid out the little money which was left 
after his debts were paid, in the purchase of it, and has for 
these ten years past worked as a labourer for my father 
and others. He tells me he has no reason to find fault 
with his condition, since God has hitherto given him health 
and strength, house and home, food and raiment ; " and 
above all," said he, u the knowledge of himself, which is 
u every mercy in one : for if God be our God, we shall not 
^ 4 want any good thing." 

My dear Miss Barnwell desires me to give an account 
pf the manner in which my heavenly Father was pleased 
to bring me out of that state of ignorance and unbelief, ire 
which 1 am convinced all mankind are bom, and would 
also live and die, if not prevented by sovereign grace. I 
-will endeavour to satisfy her. But let me in the first place 
acknowledge, that she has proved to my satisfaction that 
Christ's church never has been, nor can be national ; and 
that now I no more wonder that the church of Rome has 
the marks and characters of the antichristian church, than, 
I wonder at the degeneracy of human nature since the fall. 

I told Thomas last night, that I thought the church of 
England has as few real Christians in it as the church of 
Rome. 

' We have very little reason, said he, to expect the con- 
trary. The church of England, as well as the church of 
Rome, is composed in general of nominal Christians. 
These will always b* enemies to real Christianity, as we 



have been before them. But the church of England in this 
respect is greatly preferable to the church of Kome. 
Through the kind providence of God, the civil power has 
chained her down in such a manner, that she can do but 
little hurt to the servants of Jesus Christ. 

Be it so, Thomas, said I ; yet if, according to my 
friend's letter, all national churches are antichristian, how 
can we account for God's permitting such men as Mr. Her- 
vey and Mr. Romaine (of whom I have heard you speak 
well) to continue in the church of England ? 

The arguments, replied he, which they use to justify 
their continuance in it, will not bear examination. Chris- 
tians cannot continue in Babylon the less, any more than 
in Babylon the great, without partaking of her sins. But 
the call to the people of God to come out of Babylon, im- 
plies that some of them will be found in her, even at the 
time of her overthrow. And notwithstanding they err in 
their conduct and reasonings, it is not to be doubted that 
the providence of God turns it to a good account, by bring- 
ing many persons in the church of England to the know- 
ledge of the truth through their instrumentality. 

In giving my friends a short history of my life, I must 
begin with informing them, that from my being seven or 
eight years of age, I was sincere and zealous in the reli- 
gion wherein I was educated ; and that whenever I com- 
pared the professors of it with Protestants, those who had 
departed from the only true church (as I termed it) sank 
very low in my esteem. 

The first time I was fully and feelingly convinced that 
there is a God who rules the world in righteousness, and 
that I was the object of his providential regard, my con* 
viction was owing to the following incident. I was so 
good a horse- woman, that at seven or eight years of age 
my father durst trust me to ride my poney any where by 
myself. When I was about that age, being to visit the 
Miss Harcourts? who you know live seven miles from 
Thornton, in the pride of my heart I begged permission to 
go hy myself. The next day, as I was coming back,, my 



5& 

poney stumbled on tbe gallop, and threw me over its head, 
I was not hurt by the fall : the great misfortune was, the 
running away of my horse. I ran after him a full hour ; 

but 1 might as well have attempted to catch a deer. 

Looking every way, and seeing no one, I tried again, but 
without success. At last night approaching, I fell on my 
knees in an agony of distress, and besought the Father of 
mercies to have compassion on me. I then arose and 
went to my horse, which, to my great astonishment, did 
not start away as before, but stood as still as if he had been 
fastened to the ground. 

This wonderful interposition of Providence made a 
great impression upon me I was, however, as ignorant 
of God's method of saving sinners for. the sake of the Re-, 
deemer, as if I had been a Mahometan : and I look upon, 
this to be the common case of mankind in a state of na- 
ture. The Holy Spirit well represents such persons as 
blind, notwithstanding they have eyes : and deaf, notwith- 
standing they have ears, I remember, when I was after- 
wards confirmed by a Romish , bishop, I expected it would 
confer a great deal of holiness upon me ; for I was very 
desirous of doing something that would recommend me to 
the divine favour, c 

The first time I suspected the excellence of the church 
of Rome was about two years past. My dear Miranda 
knows widow Privet, who keeps a grocer's shop in our 
parish. ' I accidentally saw upon her counter the remains 
of a large folio, which she was using in wrapping up goods. 
Upon examination, I found it to. be .part of the third vo- 
lume of Fox's Acts and Monuments. Having opened it 
where the examinations and the martyrdom of Mr. John 
Phiipot are recorded, . I was amazed at the scurrilous lan- 
guage used by bishop Bonner to the good man, and at 
the more than inhuman treatment which he received at 
the hands of that bloody prelate, as I then in my own 
mind termed him. I took the book into her parlour, and 
read the account of his examination, sufferings, and death ; : 
after which, you little think, my dear friends, what n state 



my mind was in. It occurred to my memory, that the 
apostles departed from the presence of the council, rejoicing 
tliat they were counted worthy to suffer shame for his name ; 
and I recollected these words of Paul, If any man have 
not the spirit of Christ, he is none of his. Falling upon my 
knees, I said, I beseech thee, O my God, that I may have 
the spirit and temper of thy dear Son, and that I may never 
have the spirit of those wolves in sheep's clothing This 
good man appeared to be so dead to the world, and to 
hare such a fervent love to God and to his people, and to 
be so patient and undaunted under his great sufferings in 
the bishop's coal-hole and other prisons, that my soul was 
united to him. I gave vent to my grief by shedding floods 
of tears, and implored my merciful Father, for the sake of 
his dear Son, to direct me in the way that I should go ; for I 
became very jealous of a church which had so defiled it- 
self with blood. I could not help observing, that this per- 
secuting spirit was very different from that of our Lord ; 
who did good to all ; who prayed for his murderers ; and 
who commanded his followers to bless them that cursed 
them, to do good to them that hated them, and to pray 
for them who despitefully used and persecuted them. 
The arguments likewise used by Mr. Philpot against 
transubstantiation, gave such rude shocks to the senti- 
ments in which I had been educated, that I was amazed at 
the folly and wickedness of his persecutors, who seemed 
to think it possible to alter a person's sentiments by cruel 
treatment. They might, said I to myself, have made this 
good man a hypocrite, if it had been in their power by 
violence to make him yield to their will ; but when they 
had so far succeeded, they could have gone no further. 

I went out of the parlour to Mrs. Privet, and offered to 
buy the part of the volume which was left. But she would 
have nothing for it, telling me that my father had given 
her that, with several other books, some time past, for 
shop-paper, 

I cannot but admire the providence of God. My dear 
parent, I have no doubt, gave this book to Mrs. Privet, ost 



58 



purpose that we should not come to the sight of it; and 
the very method he took to prevent my seeing it, was the 
cause of its falling in mv way. 

I concealed it in a lumber garret, where I have wept 
many an hour in reading it ; after which I used to be much 
dissatisfied with the church of Rome, until, looking round 
among my protestant acquaintance, and seeing no appear- 
ance of religion, I concluded that every thing was imper- 
fect here below, and that the church of Rome, with all her 
faults, of which I had discovered no small number, was 
the only church in which there were any remains of Chris- 
tianity. And I now think, that there is much more zeal 
among those of our communion, (if I may yet call it ours,) 
than among protectants in general ; witness the number 
of both sexes who embrace the monastic life, and seclude 
themselves from the World, together With the anchorites, 
who in every age of the church have left society, that the\r 
might give themselves up to fasting and prayer. When 
my friends are kind enough to favour me with a letter, I 
beg they will give me their thoughts of the hermitical and 
monastic lives. 

I know my father, the moment he understands that I 
have embraced what he will call heretical opinions, will 
either turn me ouc of doors, or insist upon my taking the 
veii : and it cannot be a great while before he knows it ; 
for I have determined, with the divine assistance, never 
more to attend at mass, which I am convinced is an idola- 
trous worship. You will easily believe, my dear friends, 
that mine would be a very disagreeable situation, were not 
my God to support me under the prospect of those evils 
which seem ready to overwhelm me. I ask no more than 
literally bread to eat, and raiment to put on; and how 
coarse they are, I trust will give me no concern. My 
hope is, that my heavenly Father, who feeds the ravens, 
and clothes the grass of the field, will not suffer me to 
want these absolutely necessary things. 

I have just received a letter from St. Omer's, from my 
dear brother, wherein he tells us, that he meets with so 



59 



many unmeaning professions of friendship, so much in- 
sincerity, and so little real religion, that he is weary of the 
haunts of men, and frequently wishes that he lived in some 
desert, where he had no one to converse with but the Cre- 
ator of all things. He desires his kind respects to several 
of his friends by name, among whom is Miss Barnwell. 
I wish my brother had just such a wife, and that through 
her instrumentality he might be brought to the knowledge 
of that salvation which is by Jesus Christ. To him, the 
great Shepherd of the sheep, I commend both my friends, 
and am, dear Madam, 

Your affectionate friend, 

And very humble servant, 
EUSEBIA NEVILLE, 



LETTER IX. 

From Mrs, Worthingion to Miss Eusebia Neville, 

MY DEAR FRIEND, 

W £ received your letter, and that of our friend Thomas, 
I am happy to find that I agree so exactly with that wor- 
thy man. 

I recommend it to you, above all other things, to be 
very conversant with the Scriptures ; since they are mines 
which can never be exhausted, wells of salvation, which 
will never fail, and breasts of everlasting consolation. No- 
thing gives me a meaner opinion of any one's Christiani- 
ty, except an irreligious life, than his running from place 
to place after this or that preacher, while his Bible is neg- 
lected. 

I once asked a friend of mine what he thought to be 
the best mark of regeneration ? 

I believe Madam, replied he, I may venture to assert, 
that a love to the tilings revealed in the New Testament; 



60 



is the first and best of all marks ; because we thereby show 
that we love him who revealed them. 

And pray, Sir, said I, what mark do you think to be next 
in point of importance I 

I must answer, said he, as our Lord did in another case, 
The second is like unto it, to wit, a love to the Old Testa- 
ment. Wherever these two marks are conspicuous, there 
is no great necessity to look for a third ; inasmuch as he 
who sincerely loves the word of God cannot run into very 
great errors either in doctrine or practice. If he at any 
time should fall into a mistake, either through the temp- 
tations of Satan, or the wily arts of those who lie in wait to 
deceive, he will resemble a good clock, whose pendulum 
has been shaken by some rude touch, the improper mo- 
tion of which continues no longer than until it has recover- 
ed its natural vibration. God has frequently left the most 
acute and learned of his servants to err, even in compara- 
tively easy and obvious things, that he may thereby honour 
his word, and teach us not to glory in men, the very best 
of whom, especially if they write much, have wood, hay, 
and stubble, in their productions, as well as gold and pre- 
cious stones. 

The use I would wish my friend to make of the great 
mercy shown to her is, to reflect on the power and good- 
ness of her heavenly Father. This reflection will tend to 
support her under the prospect of future trials. Her case 
is truly alarming, when we look no further than to an in- 
censed parent ; but if we take off our eyes from these sen- 
sible objects, and view the great I AM, who holdeth the 
waters in the hollow of his hand, we shall have reason t© 
exclaim, Alas, what are our small affairs ! How little can 
the powers of earth or hell obstruct the designs of that Be- 
ing who doeth whatsoever he will 1 The ravens cry to 
him, and their wants are not beneath his notice : but the 
names of his children he engraves upon his breast, and he 
keeps them as the apple of his eye. If therefore he is for 
us, who can be against us ? Moreover, my dear child, you 
ought to pray and hope, that God in his great mercy will 



61 



give you your friends, as it were, from the dead. When 
the Lord delivered Paul from a terrible shipwreck, he also 
gave him those who sailed with him : and I have known 
several instances (besides those recorded in the Scrip- 
tures) where salvation has come to an individual, of its also 
coming to the whole house: so that there has been a ge- 
neral jubilee— a deliverance from the worst of all bondage, 
the servitude of Satan. 

I rejoice, Miss Neville, that you perceive the idolatry of 
the mass. That is abundantly manifested in almost every leaf 
of the third volume of Fox's Acts and Monuments. We 
there see many servants of Jesus choosing to lose their lives 
by- the most terrible of all deaths, rather than submit to an 
idolatry as gross and stupid as that of the Egyptians, who 
adored leeks and onions. The method taken by those idol- 
atrous bishops and priests to propagate their superstition, 
sufficiently demonstrates its impiety. They called the mass 
an unbloody sacrifice ; with what -propriety, I leave those 
persons to judge, who know how many thousands have 
been murdered by those bloody prelates, because they 
would not fall down and worship the idol, made of flour 
and water, which they had set up. That idolatrous error, 
as well as almost every other, was invented by Satan, to 
supersede the atonement made by the Lamb of God, when 
he bowed his head and cried, It is finished. I am thankful 
that the providence of God directed you to the sight of that 
'valuable book, where the fruits are discovered which have 
been borne by the partizans of the church of Rome. At 
the time when it was published, the servants of God seem- 
ed to apprehend* that a national church of Christ was not 
in the nature of things impossible. The Reformers, there- 
fore, compiled the thirty-nine articles of the church of 
England, to exclude all such from being teachers as were 
destitute of the truth and spirit of Christ; but with how 
little effect time has demonstrated : since in the church of 
England, as well as the church of Rome, and all other na- 
tional churches, young men are educated for the ministry 
at public seminaries, not because their parents perceive 

F 



6& 

them to be influenced by a love to the souls of men, or apt 
to teach, but because they hope they have influence enough 
to get them preferred in the church. Or if they have no 
such hope, yet the vanity of some parents is sufficiently 
gratified, if they can see their child in a gown and cassoc, 
and styled the Reverend ; although it would have been 
much better both for the youth and the community, if he 
had been brought up to a calling, wherein he might have 
been a useful member of society. 

I have been frequently surprised at the simplicity of our 
Reformers, However abstracted they were from the 
world, they could not but have observed, that in contentions 
for gain the wicked will always be uppermost. If, there- 
fore, they would have a national church, they should have 
abolished tithes, and every other ecclesiastical emolument ; 
and if any one had desired to be a parish minister, he 
ought to have been elected by the majority of the people. 
I do not say that a good national church could have been 
procured by these means. The majority of the inhabit- 
ants of a parish are nominal Christians ; and such would 
never, from an approbation of his sentiments, choose a mi- 
nister of the pure gospel of Jesus Christ, so long as that 
gospel continues to be offensive and foolish in the eyes of 
unregenerate men. If, therefore, there were no other ar- 
gument to be used against the church of Rome, than her 
being a national church, that would suffice to show that she 
is not a church of Christ. But alas ! she is the mother of 
harlots and abominations, and is become, (as it was fore- 
told of her,) the habitation of devils, the hold of every foul 
spirit, and a cage of every unclean and hateful bird. 

You ask me, my dear friend, what I think of those 
monks, nuns, and anchorites, who have retired from the 
world, that they might give themselves up to fasting and 
prayer. I answer, They make great pretences to holiness, 
but I fear with very little reason, if a love to God and to 
his revealed will be the rule by which we are to measure 
the holiness of ourselves and others. Vows of celibacy in 
either sex are contrary to natural religion, sis well as to the 



65 



injunction given by God to our first parents. Forbidding 
to many is one of the marks of antichrist, or the grand 
apostacy from Christianity. 

With respect to hermits, I need only say, that man was 
formed a social being ; and that, as we were not made 
merely for ourselves, but for the good of each other, we 
ought- to abide in the calling where God in his providence 
has placed us. Every Christian soldier has a warfare ap- 
pointed him by his general ; and it is unlawful for him to de- 
sert his post, and to leave society, where he is obliged to en- 
deavour to be useful. Besides, may not our God justly say 
to all who abandon society, be their intentions what they 
may, Who hath required this at your hands ? 

Since I wrote the above my brother-in-law, Mr. Barn- 
well, is arrived from Jamaica, after an absence of eight 
months, to the great joy of his daughter. But I doubt, 
poor dear girl, she is going to encounter many troubles, 
which in one form or other await all the servants of Jesus 
Christ. She joins me in the best wishes for the happiness 
of all our friends at Thornton. Pray be kind enough to 
continue your narrative, which I doubt not will edify as 
well as oblige, 

My dear young friend, 

Yours very sincerely, 

MARY WORTHINGTON, 



LETTER X. 
From Miss Barmvell to Miss Eusebia Neville. 

MY DEAR EUSEBIA, 

My aunt has acquainted you that my father is returned 
from Jamaica. I was exceedingly glad to see him ; but I 
fear I shall never more enjoy an hour's comfort in his 
company. How do I wish he were like our excellent 
friend Thomas Livingstone ! 



64 



I believe my father was glad to see me : but when we 
conversed together, and I appeared destitute of that flighti- 
ness which I formerly possessed, he said he could not 
think what was the matter with me. 

Pray, cried he, whither do you go ? to church or rn&et- 
ing? 

I answered, that I had been at both, but that I#hiefly 
went to meeting with my aunt. 

To meeting with your aunt ? replied lie contemptuous- 
ly. I assure ycu> Miranda, those who leave the church, 
and preach in conventicles, are all of them villains, who 
make it their study to turn people's heads. I am sorry 
you have so little of your father in you as to go and hear 
them. I never was in one of their places in ray life. Your 
aunt indeed married one of this sort of people ; a very ho- 
nest man, I must confess, so that I did not so much wonder 
at her going to the meeting: but as Mr. Worthington is 
dead, and the reason of her leaving the church no longer 
exists, I am amazed that she, who is a sensible woman 
in other respects, should continue to have any thing to do 
with such people. 

I believe, Sir, said I, Mr. Worthington did not desire 
her to leave the church, but left it w holly to her own op- 
tion. I have heard her say that, at first, she only went 
now and then occasionally, until it pleased God to open 
her eyes. 

O Eusebia, my poor parent burst here into a loudlaugh^ 
turning my expression of God's opening her eyes into ri- 
dicule. Alas, how sad a thing is it to be ignorant, both of 
-our misery and the remedy ! He perceived, by my tears, 
that his laughter was no pleasing thing to me, and cried 
out, Fy, fy, Miranda, I did not think such an enthusiastical 
expression, would have come from your mouth. My 
child, all canting and whining about religion is a mere 
farce. If we do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with 
God, that is all, that is all ; God requires no more. 

*< *Bout modes of faith let graceless zealots fight ; 
" His can't be wrong, whose life is in the right/' 



65 

And yet, SiiV replied I, the church of Rome, to Which 
Mr. Pope,<he author of those Hues, was the greatest bigot, 
has murdered her millions on account of their faith. This," 
I thinS. bears a pretty near resemblance to fighting. And 
there is another church, Sir, that has shown herself to be 
her truer daughter, by treading in the same steps as long 
as she could. The liberty which dissenters enjoy at this 
day tl#y have no cause to thank the clergy for. 

Faith, girl, said my father, your answer is more to the 
^purpose than I could have expected. I believe, indeed, 
that priests of all religions are the same. All I say is this : 
every one ought to go where he was brought up. In Lon- 
don, I acknowledge, some genteel people go to the meet- 
ing ; so that I do not so much blame you for going with 
your aunt ; but in the country, Miranda, none go to meet- 
ing but beggars, the very lowest of the people, except in 
our great towns, where a few tradesmen are of that per- 
suasion ; but even there you scarcely ever see any gen- 
teel people among them. Mr. Pink, indeed, and his fami- 
ly, went to meeting when they lived in a market-town ; 
but since he came to reside upon his estate, he has always 
gone to church. I asked Miss Pink one day the reasoti 
her father and mother did not go to meeting now. Be- 
cause, replied she, none but beggars go to meeting here. 
And a very good reason, I think ; as it would be out of 
character for Mr. Pink to associate with such low people, 
in a place not much better than a barn, and to hear a des- 
picable mechanic. 

O Eusebia, I could formerly have heard such discourse- 
with pleasure: but now I was filled with the most poign- 
ant grief. In answer to my father, I begged him to give 
me his thoughts on this passage in the word of God : For 
ye see your calling, brethren, how tliat not many wise men 
after the fleshy not many mighty not many noble are called ; 
but God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to con- 
found the wise ; and God hath chosen the weak things of the 
world to confound the things which are mighty ; and base 
things of the world , and things which are despised, hath God 

F2 



66 



chosen ; yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought 
things that are ; that no fiesh should glory in his presence . 

Of what use is it to quote Scripture, cried my father ; 
Scripture may he quoted for any thing. 

After this private conversation, my father said to my 
auntj when we were at tea, I hope, Madam, you will be so 
obliging as to accompany my daughter and me to the play. 
The tragedy of Macbeth will be acted at Drury-Iane. I 
admire Shakspeare ; he was the most original genius in 
the world ; and in his fairies and witches he never had, and 
probably never will have an equal. 

I am willing, Sir, replied my aunt, that he should have 
all the honour which accrues from excelling in the inven- 
tion of such sinful amusements. 

I tell you what, Madam, said my father, I would rather 
go to see a play written by that immortal bard, than to 
bear the best sermon that ever was preached, and there 
would be more to be learned by it. But the question is> 
will you oblige me and go with us I 

Indeed 1 will not, replied she ; nor will I consent that 
my niece shall go while she is under my care. When 
she is in the country she may do as she pleases. 

Nay, Madam, answered my father, when she is in the 
country, she shall do as I please. I am afraid, sister, you 
have filled her head so full of religion, that it will be the 
cause of many a quarrel between us ; for I shall insist upon 
her being as she used to be. 

I assure you, brother, replied my aunt, it will be in vain 
to expect it. Your dan Rater was a thoughtless creature, 
and lived without the fear of God. Now she has learned 
to fear him, who, after he has killed, is able to cast into 
hell : and I dare say she would rather suffer the greatest 
evil than go to a playhouse, or do any thing deliberately t» 
often d God, 

So then, Madam, cried my father, raising his voice, (I 
perceived he was angry,) you have taught her, I observe, 
to set me at defiance ; but we shall see when she is at- 
home- who will be the greatest coward; she or L My 



67 



daughter knew that I abhorred pretenders to religion, as I 
hate toads or vipers ; and yet she must become one of 
those whining hypocrites. I must say I hate them, and 
shall for ever hate them. 

I was bathed in tears, as I well might, at a conversation 
so truly alarming : but, w iping my eyes and falling upon 
my knees, I implored my dear parent not to desire me to 
offend my Creator. In every matter wherein I could 
conscientiously oblige him, I promised to be obedient 
without reserve. 

Well, Miranda, cried my father, angrily, you may either 
go or stay : I shall ask you no more. 

My aunt replied, that she was certain I would gladly do 
all, or even more than he could desire, where I could do 
so without breaking the divine commands. 

At this my father laughed, and desired to know which 
of the commandments was broken by going to a play ? 

The whole of the moral law, replied she, is comprised 
in love to the Author of our being, and in love to our neigh* 
bour. But it cannot be said of those who delight in such 
vanities that their conversation is in heaven, or that they 
have any knowledge of, or true lo\e to God. And if by 
our example we countenance our neighbour in sin, it can- 
not be said that we have any true love to him. So that to 
frequent those indecent assemblies 

Come, come, sister, interrupted my father, a sermon 
once a week is more than sufficient, except it be a very 
short one indeed. I have no doubt but as honest men as 
any in the kingdom frequent the theatre constantly ; and 
if I fare as well as they, I dare say I shall not be very bad- 
ly off. 

As soon as my father had said this, he ordered his m an 
to call a coach, and went away without asking me to ac- 
company him. But he has since been very cross when he 
has been here, which has not been often i for he has a suit 
depending in chancery, so that a good deal of his time has 
been taken up with his attorney and counsel. 

We snail be in the country in a few days, with the di- 



€8 

•nne permission, when I hope to have the pleasure at see- 
ing my clear friend But I fear that if bonds and imprison- 
ments do not await me, as they frequently have done the 
servants of Jesus Christ, I shall suffer a great deal from 
my dear parent, who only does as I should now have done, 
if the mercy of God had not prevented. 

Pray remember our love to Thomas and his wife. My 
aunt desires you will correspond with her after I am gone, 
and also continue your narrative. She was so kind as to 
intreat my father to let me stay ; to which he only answer- 
ed. In my humble opinion, sister, she has been here too 
long already, except she had studied the fifth command- 
went as well as the rest. My dear Eusebia, 
I am your most affectionate friend, 

And companion in affliction, 
MIRANDA BARNWELL. 



LETTER XL 
From Miss Eusebia Neville to Mrs, JVorthington. 

DEAR MADAM, 

Y OUR niece's account of what she has suffered, and of 
what she is likely to suffer, from her parent, has made me 
low-spirited, as I fear it is only a prelude to my own trials. 
I expect my father and sister, and father Albino, will be 
at home next week, at which time I intend to visit my 
cfear Miranda, if I hear that she is arrived at Barn well, 
I expect no more comfort at the Abbey, since I dare not 
any longer conform to that idolatrous worship wherein I 
was educated. 

It is your desire, Madam, that I should continue my 
narrative. This I will gladly do, or any thing else where- 
in I can oblige Mrs. V\ orthington 

I have already related how much I was affected with 
reading the examinations and martyrdom of Mr. Phiipot 



69 



£ixl many others. Yet, although impressed with unfa- 
vourable sentiments concerning the church of Rome, I 
consoled myself with the reflection, that the same murde- 
rous principle was imbibed by chose who had sepavated 
from us. It sometimes amazes me, that so excellent a 
person as Calvin should consent to the burning of Sei> 
vet us ; not to mention other similar tragedies performed 
in England the moment the Reformers got the power into 
their own hands* At first view it seems as if the contest 
between them and the catholics was, which of the two 
parties had the greatest right to persecute. But I am now 
persuaded, that wherever the civil magistrate is excited 
by the adversary of mankind to favour one sect or denomi- 
nation of Christians above the rest, and to bestow the wealth 
of the people upon it, Satan will always enter with that 
sop, and the betraying of Christ and his cause, and the 
murder of his faithful servants, will inevitably follow. 

About this time last year my father and sister and I 
were at a friend's house in London, upon a visit, where 
we stayed a month, the longest month I ever saw. One 
day my sister and I crossed Smith-field, to go through tire 
Cloisters in our way to Cheapside. I looked around me? 
and though I did all in my power to suppress my emotion, 
could not avoid shedding tears at the remembrance of the 
many servants of Christ who had sealed the truth in that 
place with their blood. My sister asked me what w T as the 
matter. When I was able to speak, I told her truly that I 
was grieved at the heart to see a place where so many 
protestants had been put to death, to the reproach and 
scandal of our religion. 

Indeed, said my sister, I am not sorry about it. I have 
often heard my father say it was their own fault. If they 
would have renounced their heresy, even at the stake, their 
Kves would have been spared. 

Ah, Maria, cried I, how would you think a protestant 
reasoned, if you were fastened to a stake for being a ca- 
tholic, and he were to tell you, that if you were burned it 
would be your own fault, since if you would renounce you;- 
heresy, even at the stake, you might live ? 



70 



The case, replied she, is not parallel ; is there no dif- 
ference between catholics and heretics ? 

Too little, answered L betw T een catholics and somepro- 
testants ; for catholics and prote stents have murdered each 
other on a religious account, which was imitating lions and 
tigers more than the meek and lowly Jesus, who went 
about doing good, and came to save men's lives, and not 
to destroy them. 

You may say what you please, interrupted my sister 
angrily ; but in my opinion, we ought no more to pity 
heretics, than snakes or vermin, which were made to be 
destroyed. — I made no reply, as I perceived that my sister 
and I saw things in a very different light, not only in this, 
but in almost every thing besides 

We had a good deal of altercation while we were in Lon- 
don about dress ; my sister being fond of making a gay ap- 
pearance, and I choosing to dress very plain. She wore a 
high head-dress, in the very top of the fashion ; and she 
could not persuade me, either with good words or chiding, 
to dress any otherwise than 1 had been used to do ; for I al- 
ways abhorred the fickle, fantastic extremes in the dresses- 
of our sex, and my father was of my mind. My sister was 
very angry. She thought it decent, she said, to follow the 
fashion, how T ever ridiculous it might seem, because cus- 
tom gave a sanction to every thing ; adding, that there 
was as much pride in aiming to appear singular, as in 
dressing like other people. However specious this rea- 
soning might be, I could not think of spending half my 
time under the hands of a hair-dresser, that I might have 
twelve inches added to my stature. I therefore was suffi- 
ciently unfashionable, and was, by many persons, despised 
as a plain country-girl : which made Maria peevishly tell 
me, that a fine face and shape were thrown away upon 
me ; and that people did not deserve such things who did 
not know how to make use of them. Or rather, cried she, 
you are a little too conscious of your own perfections, and 
look down with contempt on the aid you might receive 
from dress, — I generally made no answer to compliments 



71 



of this kind, since all the wrangling in the world would 
not have changed our sentiments. I was glad when I 
had returned into the country. To those who can take 
pleasure in masquerades, routs, and assemblies, together 
with theatrical entertainments and other public amuse- 
ments, I will thankfully resign my share of them. I 
would much rather converse with trees and flowers, or 
the brute creation, than with mankind. The fulsome 
flattery and artful designs of some ; the self-sufficiency, 
the haughty looks, and the sneering pride of others ; and 
the poor, vain pursuits of almost all ; have given me an 
unfavourable opinion of human nature. O my dear friends, 
if I had lived in London a hundred years, and had spent 
them in the manner we did that one month, the whole 
time would not have yielded me half the pleasure I expe- 
rienced in one quarter of an hour about a month after 
our return. 

It was about noon, when, as I was walking in the wil- 
derness, meditating upon divine subjects, and praying to 
he guided in the way that I should go, I at length came 
to one of those seats which are cut in the hedge that is 
next the closes, and sat down. Hearing somebody cough 
just by me, and looking through a small aperture, I be- 
held Thomas Livingstone, who had been scouring the 
ditch, on the other side of the hedge. I knew him, but 
had never spoken to him in my life Having prepared to 
dine, by laying on the bank a piece of barley bread, a bit 
of cheese, a little salt in a paper, and an onion, which 
things he had taken out of a basket, he lifted up his hands 
before he began his frugal repast, and said, I thank thee^ 
O my God, for the food which thou hast provided for the 
nouiishment of this frail body ; but above all I bless thee 
for Jesus Christ, and that hope of eternal life which thou 
hast given me through him ! 

How was I surprised and delighted ! I ran a little fur- 
ther, and falling on my knees, thanked God that I had 
found a Christian. This short thanksgiving had no resem- 
pjawe. \q a string of prayers, hurried over, and repeated 



w 

by number. I earnestly desired a more intimate acquain- 
tance with this poor, rich man. 

Ye sons and daughters of riot and dissipation! if ye de- 
light in power, afRuence, and grandeur, behold in this hedg- 
er and ditcher, an angel in disguise; one, as much supe- 
rior to thousands whom an undisceming world dignifies 
with the titles of august and mighty, as those earthly gods 
are to the insect they crush beneath their feet. Alas ! how* 
will they bear the dreadful change that in one year, or day, 
or hour, may take place, when such as he, shall be comfort- 
ed in the presence of the high and lofty One who inhabit- 
eth eternity, and made companions of, and placed upon a 
level with myriads of angels, while they shall open their 
eyes in the regions of despair ! They think to quench the 
flames of hell by disbelieving their reality; nor will they 
be convinced of their error till they have full and feeling 
evidence. Well ! they must wait a very little while, and 
every scruple will be removed, and no place left for doubt. 

The apparent happiness of this'poor man, blessing God 
for his barley bread, and possessing a hope of salvation by 
the Redeemer, inspired me with a multitude of these re- 
flections ; and when I contrasted with it the superb, mag- 
nificent, and gay things I had seen in London, they shrank 
into nothing. Hitherto I had supposed that the protes- 
tants of the present day were a different kind of people 
from those who laid down their lives in Smithfield : but I 
now saw that I had not been acquainted with protestants of 
the right kind, and that true Christians are hidden from the 
world ; and those words of John occurred to my mind, 
The world knoiveth us not^ because it knew him not, 

I determined to go and see this good man, whose wife I 
knew, as she frequently assists our cook, when we have 
more company than usual. But I had a terrible in w r ard 
struggle ; 1 feared that if I put myself in the way of temp- 
tation, I might become what my friends term a heretic. 
On the other hand, I considered that I was nineteen years 
of age, and able to discern between good and evil ; and that 
it was my duty to try all things, and hold fast that which is 



73 



good. I also thought that if I should perish, it would be 
an aggravation to my guilt that God had pointed out the 
means whereby I might understand his will, and that I had 
neglected them. 

I went to our friend's house ; but like Nicodemus I stay- 
ed till night. The good man was at prayer. I shah ne- 
ver forget with what fervour he addressed the Majesty of 
heaven and earth : my heart burnt within me. How un- 
like, said I to myself, is this to saying prayers in an un- 
known tongue, or to running them over as a school-boy re- 
peats his task. This man prays as if he was petitioning 
for his life at the bar of his judge ! 

When he had finished I went in. The good people 
were surprised to see me, especially at that time of night. 
My father had taught us never to make an excuse, My 
children, he would say, whenever it is improper to tell the 
undisguised truth, it becomes you not to speak at all. I 
therefore told my friend without reserve how long I had 
been uneasy 1 in my mind in consequence of reading Fox's 
History of the Martyrs, and also that I had heard him ad- 
dress the Divine Being before he began his meal ; and I 
concluded with observing, that to be delivered from the 
wrath to come was a matter of such infinite importance, 
that I thought it became every person to use his utmost 
endeavour not to be mistaken. 

While I was speaking, I perceived Mary, my friend's 
wife, in tears ; and even Thomas was so moved, that a 
drop now and then started from his eye, and trickled down 
his cheek. How beautiful is that trait in the character of 
Christians which is recommended by the apostle, that they 
look not every ^nan on Ids own i kings , but every man also on 
the things of ethers. 

After a little pause he said, my dear young lady, both 
you and your family, from whom I have received much 
friendship, have many times been the subjects of my ear- 
nest prayers, and I trust that God has heard my request; 
but it is necessary before we buiid to sit down and count 
the cost. I know vour father too well to suppose that he 

G 



74 

will suffer you to become a protestant without manifesting 
the utmost indignation. 

I know it, Thomas, replied I ; but nothing which I can 
suffer bears any proportion to lifting up my eyes in hell. 
However, I do not see the necessity of my becoming a pro- 
testant : If I only leave the church of Rome in those things 
in which she has corrupted herself, will not that be suffi- 
cient ? 

Without doubt, Miss, replied he ; and I would wish you 
to follow my advice. Read the New Testament with care 
and attention, and as much as possible without prejudice ; 
and accompany the reading of that divine book with sup- 
plication to him whose word it is, that he wilf open your 
understanding, and incline your will to receive his truth, 
whatever may be the consequence : and if you find the 
Roman Catholic religion taught there, embrace it; if 
not, leave that church, so far as she has left divine reve- 
lation. 

Thomas, replied I, the advice you have given me is so 
excellent, that an angel could not prejudice me against it. 
Yes, my dear friend, I will endeavour, with the divine as- 
sistance, to learn what I am to believe, and what I am to 
practise, entirely from the word of God ; and if I perish, 
I perish. 

This is not the language, my dear young lady, said he, 
of one who is likely to perish ; for in proportion as any 
person loves God's word, and is disposed to be guided by 
it, he loves also its Author. Every person, on the contra- 
ry, who wrests the Scripture from its obvious meaning, 
so far show s his dislike to God : for the Scripture is his 
mind revealed to us ; and if we dislike his mind, we dis- 
like him. 

Since this, I have had three or four conversations with 
Thomas. We have both been reading archbishop f tigh- 
ten, and we agree that he was a star of the first magnitude, 
The writings of this excellent man are a comment upon 
the observation of Paul that if any wan. have not the zfitHt 
of Christ, he is none of his. The truths which he has de- 



75 

livered are so weighty and important, and his manner is so 
modes: and affectionate, that before I had finished one page 
I had a sensation which 1 cannot describe. I blessed God 
for having sent such labourers into his vineyard. Yet he 
docs not appear, at least while he retained his archbishop- 
ric, to have understood the nature of Christ's kingdom. 
I am more and more convinced, that if the magistrate 
were to convert the best religion in a country into the state 
religion, and to allow salaries to its teachers, it would soon 
degenerate. Church emoluments will always be consid- 
ered as a provision for the younger bi anches of the families 
of the great ; ana if these needy persons do not engross 
all the livings in the gift of the state, or of their families, 
the remainder will in general be obtained, as my dear Mi- 
randa observes, by those bold pushing men, who in con- 
tentions for gam are always uppermost. That there are 
many ministers in the church of England who have the 
Spirit of Christj cannot be doubted ; and I believe the 
church of Rome is not destitute of pastors of this descrip- 
tion. But national Christianity seems to carry in it the 
principles of corruption. 

I beg you wiil remember my love to my suffering 
friend, if she continue with you. I pray that she may not 
think it a strange thing to be despised by her parent for 
Christ's sake. Dear Madam, I am most respectfully, 
Your sincere friend, 

And humble servant, 

EUSEBIA NEVILLE. 



LETTER XII. 

From Mrs. War thing ton to Miss Eusebia Neville, 

MY DEAR YOUNG FRIEND, 

I RECEIVED your letter the day after my niece had left 
me. She. returned home with a heart full of grief both 



76 

on her own account and mine. Every day gives a Chris- 
tian fresh proof that this is not his rest, but that he must 
prepare himself to endure hardness as a good soldier of 
Jesus Christ. 

You have, perhaps, heard of Mr. M. a very reputable 
merchant, and an intimate acquaintance of my dear hus- 
band. He is become a bankrupt : unhappily forme, he 
had at least half my fortune in his hands. 

It was a great shock to me at first ; but the pleasing 
thought, that my chief treasure is laid up in Heaven, has 
removed my distress. Besides, a great house, rich furni- 
ture, many servants, and an expensive table, are ingredients 
not absolutely necessary to the comfort of a Christian. I 
cannot do without food and raiment ; and them I have the 
best security for. 

My dear Mr. Worthington was always determined to 
live below his income, however small. This made us 
comparatively rich, while several of our acquaintance, who* 
to all appearance, had a much better trade than we, came 
to poverty. I have troubled myself chiefly upon my dear 
niece's account, as her father behaves very unkindly to 
"her, and as I had thought that my fortune would maintain 
her and me both. But our Redeemer has cautioned us 
against being anxiously solicitous about what we shall eat, 
or what we shall drink ; and when we survey the multi- 
tude of different creatures that God has brought into being, 
which have their different w r ants, and which, as the psal- 
mist observes, all wait upon God, that he may give them 
their meat in due season, it will appear unreasonable for his 
own children to suppose, that them only, of all his crea* 
tures, he either cannot or will not provide for. 

It was a most kind providence which brought you to be 
acquainted with our friend Thomas, who is able to teach 
you all that a Christian needs wish to know. As our hea- 
venly Father intended the religion of the Redeemer for 
men of all ranks in life, but chiefly the poor, and for those 
of weak as well as of strong intellects, he has taken care 
that those things which are necessary to be known should 



77 

not be difficult to be learned, where there is a willing 
mind : and 1 believe the instances are rare, where the ob- 
vious meaning of Scripture is not the true meaning, I 
said this once to a learned friend of mine, and he was un- 
willing to agree to it. The most obvious meaning, said he, 
of our Lord's words, Take, eat ; this is my body, which is 
broken for you, is that which the Catholics affix to it ; yet 
that is not the true meaning. No, Sir, replied I ; neither 
is it the obvious meaning The Apostles were accustom- 
ed to hear our Lord speak in metaphorical language, which 
is used in all nations. When, therefore, he called himself 
a vine, and his disciples the branches, and spake of himself 
as being a door, and a shepherd, the dullest of his follow- 
ers, in the darkest age of the church, never misunderstood 
his meaning And when he said, This is my body, which 
is broken for you ; this do in remembrance of me, his mean- 
ing would have been equally obvious, if the wise men of 
this world had not darkened it by their comments ; for our 
Lord, in calling himself the living bread which came down 
from Heaven, alluded to the manna with which the Israel- 
ites were fed in the wilderness, and which was undoubted- 
ly a type of the Messiah. Well, Madam, cried he, sup- 
pose I give up this passage, you must acknowledge that 
when our Lord says, My Father is greater than I, the 
most obvious meaning is that held by the Arians, to 
wit, that our Lord was inferior to the Father. This in- 
feriority, Sir, replied I, referred not to his nature, but to 
his state of humiliation upon earth compared with his 
heavenly glory, as appears by the connexion : If ye loved 
me, ye would rejoice, because I said I go unto the Father ; 
for my Father is greater than I- 

I sometimes dread the arrival of your friends ; but when 
I consider that every new event is ai fink o? that providence 
by which the universe has always been, and will be for 



G 2 



7*8 



ever governed, my fears are calmed, and I am enabled to 
say, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. 
I am, with the sincere st affection, 
My dear Miss Neville, 

Your friend and servant, 

MARY WoRTHINGTON. 



LETTER XIII. 

From Miss Ensebia Neville to Mrs, Worlhington, 

DEAR MADAM, 

I RECEIVED your kind favour, and am very sorry to 
hear you have had so great a loss. 

My father and sister, and father Albino, arrived from 
Bath three days ago, which is a week sooner than I ex- 
pected them. My father told me yesterday, as we sat by 
ourselves in the parlour, that he wished I had gone with, 
them, as he could not be happy without me. The letters^ 
said he, you sent while I was at Bath, were scarcely any 
thing but answers to what 1 asked you : there was neither 
life nor spirit in them. Tell me, my clear love, what is the 
matter ; for before I went, I narrowly watched you when 
you little thought of it, and every now and then saw a tear 
stealing down your cheek : indeed, my Eusebia, that is not 
the index of a mind at ease. I apprehend you have receiv- 
ed some impression which your modesty will not suffer 
you to mention. Take care that your affections do not 
stray beyond your judgment. 

You may depend upon it, my dear father, said I, that I 
shall never enter into any engagement of that kind without 
your knowledge : I should think myself culpable if I made 
any advances towards it even in thought. 

I could expect no less from your prudence, my father 
was pleased to say ; but I have known many that in ether 



79 

respects have passed for wise people, who, in the comedy 
of love, have acted the silliest parts. 

Sir, replied 1, nothing of that kind, I assure you, has at 
present affected me : at the same time I must confess, 
that my mind has been many times much agitated. I 
consider that in a few years at most I must leave this 
world, and appear before the bar of Him whose eyes are 
as a flame of fire, and who trieth the reins and the heart. 
He will ask me what I have to plead why judgment should 
not pass against me. Pray, my dear father, what can I 
say ; or what could you answer in the same case I for your 
case it must be as well as mine. 

My dear Eusebia, cried my father, it is wrong to give 
way to such melancholy thoughts : you have always been 
very good, my child ; and if such a one as you is not saved, 
I may justly say, Wo be to thousands ! You have every 
thing to hope, and nothing to fear. You were washed 
from your original sin, and regenerated, at the laver of 
baptism ; and you, in evil times, have been nurtured and 
brought up in the bosom of the church ; and Christ has 
promised that the gates of hell shall not prevail against his 
church. Now r a premise which is made to the whole, 
must also be made to every member : therefore we have 
reason to believe, that even the worst, w T ho have died in the 
bosom of the church, although they have not made atone- 
ment for their crimes by true repentance, will be deliver- 
ed in due time from the hies of purgatory, through the 
intercession of good angels and the prayers of the faithful. 
O my child, how many promises are made to the church 
of God, from the benefit of which those persons exclude 
themselves who leave the society of the faithful ! No pro- 
mine is made to sectaries and schismatics: on the contra- 
ry, ihey manifest wirat they are by their breach of the unity 
of the church. The apostle St John says, They went out 
from US) but they were not of us j for if they had been of 
us* they would no doubt have continued with us: but theij 
went out, that they might be made manifest that they were 
not all of us. My dear Eusebia ; . continued he ; you have 



80 



been moping here by yourself, which naturally nourishes 
melancholy, i was desirous that you should accompany 
us, but was unwilling to press you contrary to your inclina- 
tion. Your sister was as cheerful as a lark; and so we 
were all. Bath is truly a most agreeable place, and there 
was a great deal of good company. 

I told my father, that with Lis leave I would go and see 
my friend Miss Barnwell, as I had heard she was just 
come from London, where she had been nearly nine 
months. 

By all means, replied my father. I wish, my child, you 
may become as brisk and as cheerful as Miss Barnwell; 
and I see no reason why you should not. 

Indeed, Madam, I am a sad coward ; I do not know how 
I could suffer martyrdom for Christ. I fully intended, 
when we began this conversation, to inform my father that 
I was a protestant; but I was just as if my tongue was 
tied. My dear father is a most tender parent, and his 
compassion and benevolence to the poor scarcely know 
any bounds ; but you perceive what his hope of eternal 
life is built upon. My dear friend, join your prayers with 
mine, that the foundation of his hope may be the rock of 
ages; or that work of the Redeemer, wiich he declared 
to be finished, when he bowed his head, and expired. 

I was lately conversing with Thomas, about my leaving 
the church of Rome, and the probable consequences of 
my father's displeasure. My friend, said he. if there be 
a God whose power and wisdom were exercised in our 
creation, and whose gracious providence w atches over us 
every moment, let us endeavour to dismiss every disquiet- 
ing fear, and to put our trust in Him who careth for us. 
But if there be no God, or if he take no notice of his crea- 
tures, let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die. The 
hearts of all men are in the hand of him who made them ; 
and how perverse soever they may be they never fail to 
bring forward the execution of his purposes. God has 
been unfolding and accomplishing his designs concerning 
you every moment of your life ; and he will exercise his 



81 

care over you during the endless ages of eternity. You 
have no reason, therefore, to be distressed, unless you 
think, either that his purposes concerning you are not 
wise and good, or that he will not be able to accomplish 
them. 

0 Thomas, replied I, that neither of these is the case I 
am abundantly convinced ; but you must grant that the 
servants of Jesus Christ have undergone many dreadful 
trials. I am terrified at the consciousness of my own 
weakness. 

You are afraid, answered he, that when God formed his 
plan, he did not consider the smallness of your strength. 

1 am indeed a foolish creature, Thomas, cried I ; but 
God is all-sufficient. I desire, therefore, to be as clay in 
his hands, that he may fashion me as he pleases, and do 
with me whatsoever seemeth good in his sight. 

I think it a great mercy, Madam, that I have learned to 
spin, which I did for my amusement. Either that ©r my 
needle would, with the divine blessing, procure me the 
necessaries of life, if I could not obtain a servant's place 
where I could be useful. Time will soon pass away 
that time which God has allotted for the trial of his ser- 
vants. Pray for me, my dear friend, that I may endure as 
seeing him who is invisible, and that I may come out of 
the furnace like gold seven times refined. 

Thomas and his wife desire their dutiful respects. How 
cheerful and happy they are with their scanty pittance I 
Their humble dwelling is comfortable and clean. I think 
I could be very happy in as humble a situation, if it were 
provided for me by my heavenly Father. II am more 
and more convinced that riches are not so valuable as 
mankind in general think them. When a wise man 
considers the pride and idleness, the voluptuousness and 
diseases, commonly attendant upon them, and also how 
difficult it is for the rich to enter into the kingdom of hea- 
ven, he will endeavour to moderate his desire of that de- 
ceitful mammon. Thus speaks my better judgment : but 
I find, with Paul, a law in my members warring against 



8£ 



the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the 
law of sin. When I would do good, and when I wish to 
think of divine things, I coo frequently find evil to he pre- 
sent with me ; so that I also am obliged to cry out, Who 
shall deliver me from the body of this death ? I bless God 
for the gospel, which alone gives a satisfactory answer to 
this question. 

I am, dear Madam, 

Most sincerely yours, 

EUSLBIA NEVILLE. 



LETTER XIV. 
From Miss Barnwell So Mrs, Wort king ton, 

BEAR MADAM, 

ThROUGH the kind providence of God I am safely 
arrived at Barnwell: I can scarcely say at home ; for never 
was there a parent more altered than my father. I he 
cause which is assigned is, that I am so different from 
what I was ; but in truth, though that may be some, it is 
only a small part of the reason. All the way upon the road 
my father did nothing but talk to me upon the subject of 
marriage. He was determined, he said, to have me mar- 
ried, as that, he had no doubt, would cure all my religious 
whims ! and by mere accident he had seen a gentleman at 
the play, whom I knew very well, with whom he spent the 
next evening at the tavern, where ail the conversation was 
about me. He has promised to come and see you, con- 
tinued my father, when we are at home. Indeed he was 
desirous of visiting you at your aunt's, but I put him oft 
with telling him that you were out upon a visit, lest your 
aunt or you should have begun about religion, and have 
sickened him at the outset. 



83 



It was not till after we had arrived at home that I was 
informed who this gentleman was ; for I had no inclination 
to make any inquiry about him. The place where my 
father met him sufficiently indicated his character And 
pray, Madam, who do you think it is ? No other than the 
only son of Mr. Clifford of Poplar Grange. I dare say 
you have seen him several times at our house. He has 
been two or three years upon his travels : and now he is 
returned, my father tells me it is his determination to mar- 
ry, and to become a domestic animal for the remainder of 
his life, since he is weary of the impertinence and knavery 
of foreigners When I told him, added he, that I would 
make him a present of my daughter, he took hold of my 
hand, and sal:' he would keep me to my word, for Miss 
Barnwell would be just such a wife as he should wish for. 

I replied, that I was fearful Mr. Clifford would not be 
such a husband as I should wish for. 

There are very few ladies in this country, replied my 
father, who would say No, if they had the offer. He is not 
only a handsome, well-bred gentleman, but he also posses- 
ses the main chance. His uncle, who died lately, has left 
him a capital mansion, and a good thousand a year, which 
is independent of what he will have at the death of his 
father. 

All this, Sir 5 replied I, may be, and I believe is true ; 
but as I never intend to many any person without your 
consent, I hope you will give me the liberty to refuse one 
that is not agreeable to me. Christianity is with me an 
indispensable qualification : but Mr. Clifford, if he be like 
his father, as I suppose, Sir, he is, does not profess to be 
a Christian. 

Nay, Miranda, said my father, there I know you are 
mistaken. You think he is no Christian because his 
father never goes to church : but I know Charles was 
christened, for I was at the christening ; and, if I do not 
mistake, I was one of his godfathers. But observe, in this 
I will be obeyed : I have set my heart upon it, and there- 
fore I will not suffer you to dispute my authority : so 



84 



when he conies I desire you to be cheerful, and to receive 
him as you ought. 

I held my peace, for I knew I ought to do that when I 
was commanded : but I cannot think of marrying an irre- 
ligious man, merely because he is rich, handsome, and 
well-bred. I would much rather live as I am all my days 
than be a dutchess, if my husband were an ungodly, athe- 
istical libertine. I believe, therefore. I shall soon let Mr. 
Clifford know, if he should pay his addresses to me, that I 
cannot accept his offer. 

I have been thinking of the great vanity which there is 
in every thing the world produces, except wholesome, 
plain food, clothing proper for the season, and a house 
just large enough for the family which inhabits it. I pray 
that my desires may never be so intemperate as to suffer 
me to think that I want any real earthly good, so long as 
iny heavenly Father gives me these necessary things. A 
thousand a year Mr. Clifford has already, and a noble house, 
and much more in expectation. Some persons would tell 
me, that such an ample fortune would not only be for my 
own advantage, but for the benefit of my children. I hope 
I should have that love for my children, which every pa- 
rent ought to have : but if their father taught them, by his 
example, to be irreligious, or if my heavenly Father should 
punish me with irreligious children, for daring to accept 
an ungodly husband merely because he was rich, handsome, 
and well-bred, all the wealth in the Indies would not be a 
compensation either to them or to myself. 'What comfort 
could I take in worldly possessions, when I saw my chil- 
dren travelling to everlasting destruction r It is true I might 
have ungodly children if I married a Christian : but the 
probability of it would be less ; for I should suppose that 
God in general gathers his elect from the posterity of his 
servants, by blessing their godly examples and instruc- 
tions, as he usually does every other mean of his own ap« 
pointment. Besides, if I were conscious that I had clone 
what I ought by marrying only in the Lord, at the worst I 
could not reproach myself with being instrumental in their 



6o 



perdition by an unrighteous Love of wealth and grandeur ; 
so that it is a fixed point with me ; I am determine i w th 
the divine assistance, to give Mr. Clifford no encourage* 
merit. He shall be the domestic animal, as he terms it, 
of somebody else. A smaller house, less money, and a 
husband less polite, will do very well for me. 

But you little think, my dear aunt, what is the reason 
that I am to be married in such haste. The minute we 
arrived at home my father went to Mr. Pink's, and I dare 
say stayed there an hour. I have no doubt but Miss Pink 
is to be my mother-in-law ; for the footman told me this 
morning, in confidence, that his master had sent several 
letters directly to her while they were in Jamaica, I 
should be greatly distressed, did I not know that nothing 
comes to pass by chance, but that ail the affairs of the 
children of men are directed by an unseen hand. Char- 
lotte Pink is but two-and-twenty ; for 3 know she is only 
two years older than I. She is not only too young to be a 
suitable wife for my father, but is the last person in the 
world I would wish to call mother. She has a scornful 
look, and she and her sisters dress as if they were to have 
a thousand a year for their fortune ; yet it is well known 
that Mr. Pink cannot make his fortune maintain him. I 
should not mention these things did they not so nearly con- 
cern me ; for I think the rule to speak evil of no one does 
not mean, merely, that we ought not to propagate false- 
hoods to their disadvantage, but that we should keep our 
mouths as with a bridle where telling the truth would be 
to their dishonour, except where our silence would be the 
occasion of their injuring others. 

I was persuaded, or rather commanded, by my father, to 
go to church yesterday with him. Mr. Law, our rector, 
preached from these words of Peter, Add to your faith 
virtue, 2 Pet. i. 5. We had a florid discourse, which last- 
ed about fifteen minutes, in which he endeavoured to show, 
that a virtuous life is its own reward in the present world, 
by preventing a thousand evils which are entailed upon 
-ice, and by recommending us to the esteem, not only of 

H 



$6 



gjood men, but even of the wicked, who are never so abat> 
doned as not to reverence a virtuous character, however 
they may be hurried on by the impetuosity of their pas- 
sions to act contrary to their judgment. He also observ- 
ed, that a virtuous life ensures the divine favour ; and that 
every benevolent and worthy action will be a jewel in that 
crown which the virtuous will wear hereafter. — Charity does 
not oblige me to call this an evangelical discourse ; for, in- 
stead of excluding boasting, which is the design of the 
gospel, it admitted and encouraged it, and was contrary to 
the word of God, which informs us, that by the deeds of 
the law no flesh shall be justified. 

There is a Mr. Lowe, a Baptist minister, who preaches 
here. I must endeavour to go and hear him ; for I shall 
not be willing to countenance by my presence another gos- 
pel than that of the apostles. If preachers of a mere hea- 
then morality be under the curse of God, their abettors 
cannot be guiltless, especially if they know better. 

I expect to see our dear friend here soon, as I have sent 
her word that I am at home. I hope, my dear aunt, that 
you bear your loss with becoming fortitude. It is appoint- 
ed by our heavenly Father that we should enter his king- 
dom through much affliction ; and we ought to be wiliing 
that our trials should be what and when he pleases. 
Dear Madam, 

I am your dutiful niece, 

MIRANDA BARNWELL, 



LETTER XV. 

From Miss Miranda Barnwell to Mrs. WorthingtQn, 

MY DEAR AUNT, 

I KNOW you have been in expectation of hearing wheth- 
er I have had a suitor, ana what has been the result. Yes, 
Madam, Mr. Clifford has been here, -and has received such 



3F 



an answer as a person of his importance would little ex- 
pect. My father is very angry that I refused him, notwith- 
standing he acknowledged himself to be a deist. It was 
happy for me that my dear Eusebia was here, or I do not 
know what would have been the consequence. 

I repeatedly told Mr. Clifford, that I wished, both for 
his own sake and mine, that he would not continue his ad- 
dresses, since I should not consent to be his wife. 

What, was I already engaged ? 

I answered, No. 

Had any person traduced his character, or spoken any 
thing to his disadvantage ? I ought to tell him, that he 
might have an opportunity of doing himself justice. 

I replied, that that was no part of my reason for refusing 
him ; and I begged him to cease inquiry, since I might 
have objections which it would be improper for him to 
know. I further said, that as I was obliged to him for his 
good opinion of me, it would give me pain to offend him. 

He paused, laying his hand upon his forehead. You 
Surprise me, Madam, cried he ; the cause of your refusal 
originates in me ; otherwise your telling me could not of- 
fend me. If my person is not to your liking, or you think 
my fortune less than you have a right to expect, I beg you 
to tell me ingenuously, and I promise not to be offended. 

Forbear, Sir, replied I, to ask me, I beseech you. How:- 
ever, I ought to tell you, that neither of the reasons you 
have mentioned is in any measure the ground of my ob- 
jection. 

Indeed, Miss Barnwell, cried he, I am not so much of 
an CEdipus as to find out your riddle. Then, holding up 
his fingers, he said, My finger-nails are not turned into the 
fangs of a wild beast, and yet, Madam, you seem to take 
me for one of the shaggy savages of the desert. 

Indeed, Sir, I replied, I view you in the best light I am 
able. There are many of my sex whom you may make 
happy ; but I am not of that number. 

You alarm me, Madam, cried he ; for I perceive by a 
tear, that you are very mueh in earnest. I humbly en= 



88 



treat, I beg as a friend, that you will make me acquainted 
with the reason of your rejecting me ; and I promise, on 
my part, if there be any weight in it, I will acquiesce, 
whatever pain it may give me. 

The real case then, Sir ? is this ; I found you, as I had 
too much reason to expect, destitute, unhappily for your- 
self, of the fear of God. And, as I reverence that Jbivine 
Being w T ho gave me the life which I enjoy, and who, I 
trust, will give me eternal life, I am not willing to have a 
husband who would retard me in my Christian course. 

All this may be very well, replied he, blushing, and, as 
I thought, a little angry ; but who made you a judge ? I 
suppose it is God only who knows the heart. 

True, Sir, answered I, the heart is known to God only, 
until the mouth manifest what is in it, and then it is known 
to men also. The minute you rode into the yard, I observ- 
ed that, on some account, you cursed your dog ; and since 
you have been here, I have heard you use the divine name 
irreverently, by crying, O Lord ! and O God ! As you are 
thus guilty of taking that sacred name in vain, I infer that 
you are destitute of a just fear of that God before whose 
bar we must all stand. 

Being thus reproved, he stood motionless. At length, 
resuming courage, Madam, cried he, I must allow your 
reproof to be in some measure just: at the same time 
truth obliges me to declare, that I have never been a com- 
mon swearer : I have always esteemed it to be beneath a 
gentleman so far to put himself upon a level with the dregs 
@f the people. 

I commend you, Sir, replied I ; but if ever I give away 
my heart and my hand, it shall be to one who abhors an 
oath, or any approach towards such profaneness, merely 
because it is a sin against God. 

To be sure. Madam, that is right ; but — 

But, Sir, you know your own condition : if there was the 
least weight in my objection, you promised to acquiesce. 

He replied, that if he had known me to be so scrupu- 
lously nice, he would have endeavoured not to offend roe, 



89 

That is, replied I,'you would have endeavoured to deceive: 
me. But, Mr. Clifford, such a wife will be the most suitable 
for you, as will be far from being offended at greater faults 
than these ; and the w orld is full enough of such ladies. 

He then told me, with a smile, that if he was such a sad 
creature as I represented him, it would be an act of chari- 
ty to take him, that he might be benefited by my example 
as well as by my precepts. 

I assured him, with a determined tone, that it was not a 
jesting matter, and that he might depend upon it I should 
abide by what I had said ; while at the same time I wished 
him much happiness with any other person, and should be 
always happy to see him as a neighbour. 

I must confess, Miss Barnwell, cried he, you are some- 
thing singular. Well ! if I am so bad a commodity, I 
must endeavour to make the best of myself. 

When we were at tea, this gentleman had I believe the 
vanity to think he could make me and my friend proselytes 
to deism, or rather atheism. In speaking of his travels, 
he took occasion to observe, that to converse with men of 
different countries and religions was the best thing in the 
world to enlarge the mind, and to set it free from those 
prejudices, which spring up in the nursery, and are wa- 
tered by priests : all of whom, said he, if you will be- 
lieve them, propagate the only true religion, whether they 
be Catholics or Protestants, Greeks or Armenians, Turks 
or Gentoos. 

Every man of sense, Sir, cried my father, has long 
been convinced, that priests of all religions are the same. 

I do not know, said Mr. Clifford, whether, if we do 
them strict justice, we ought to rank them all together ; 
since the priests of those religions which have done the 
least damage to mankind ought to have the preference. I 
say, the least damage ; for the wisest men in all countries 
think it a disputable point whether any of them have done 
much good. 

Mr. Clifford, cried my father* looking at me, is a man 
II % 



90 

after my own heart. I have no fault to find wkh my girl, 
continued he, turning to that gentleman, except on ac- 
count of some religious whims. With regard to myself, 
I think that honesty, if we talk for ever, is the sum of all 
religion. 

Most religions, Sir. said Mr. Clifford, would fall dread- 
fully short, were they to be measured by that rule ; for 
honesty requires people to do as they would be done by. 

Well, girls, cried my father, looking at Eusebia and 
me, what do you say to that ? 

We only say, Sir, replied my friend, that this gentle- 
man is not obliged to prove his assertion ; if he were, he 
would be obliged to undertake a more difficult task than 
he is able to perform. 

Observe, Mr. Barnwell, said he, that I have received a 
challenge. — Well, Madam, you will please to remember 
that I neither assert nor deny the truth of any religion. 
All that I have said amounts to this, that the different re- 
ligions which have been propagated in the world have in 
general been unfriendly to mankind, I am sorry that 
truth obliges me to declare, that if that is the best which 
has been the least hurtful, this negative goodness will fall 
to the share of paganism. Paganism, at the time when 
Christianity first appeared, was the religion not only of the 
whole Roman empire, the beggarly province of Judea ex» 
cepted, but also of the whole globe. The inhabiiants of 
the most distant climes, w r hose customs were the most op- 
posite to each other, who worshipped the Deity under dif- 
ferent names and characters expressive of his vaiious at- 
tributes, and who showed their respect to him by ceremo- 
nies peculiar perhaps to the country in which they had 
been educated, were rendered so friendly and sociable by 
the charitable and humane principles of their religion, 
ihat they either worshipped and venerated each other's 
gods, or they agreed to differ, and worship their own, leav- 
ing others to do the like, without any heart-burnings or 
ill-will on account of their being of different sentiments. 
I might make the same observation concerning the reli- 



91 



gion first introduced by Mahomet, the extent of which is 
far greater than that of Christianity. The founder of this 
sect professedly taught from the first, that it was the will 
of God that the Mahometan faith should be propagated by 
the sword. Yet wherever he or his followers turned their 
victorious arms, those who could not be persuaded to em- 
brace their tenets were only compelled to pay a trifling 
tax ; so that Christians of every denomination may now 
live in the exercise of their various modes of worship with 
greater safety in the dominions of the Grand Seignior, than 
in any country in Christendom, the United States of Ameri- 
ca excepted. — Now, ladies, behold the contrast. Since 
Christianity has been introduced into the world, the most 
inhuman cruelties have attended its footsteps. Wherever 
it has been received, nation has been against nation, pro- 
vince against province, sect against sect, family against fa- 
mily, and one part of a family against the other. I am not 
insensible that much may be said against paganism, espe- 
cially by Christians, whom I acknowledge the pagans used 
with severity, though not on account of their professing a 
different religion, for nothing of that kind gave them of- 
fence. The Romans laughed at the Egyptians for wor- 
shipping gods that grew in their gardens, and they carried 
their resentment no further : but the Christians and Jews 
they abhorred on account of their narrow, bigoted princi- 
ples ; for they would allow none to be the favourites of 
heaven but themselves. The same narrow, bigoted senti- 
ments, which rendered them odious in the eyes of the pa- 
gans, have caused them to exercise the most inhuman 
cruelties upon each other; so that wherever Christianity 
has gained a settlement, superstition, avarice, and hatred, 
the three worst furies that ever plagued mankind, have set 
up their baleful empire ; and fires, tortures, gibbets, and 
prisons, have followed in their train. The question, there- 
fore, concerning any or all of these religions, is not, and 
ought not to be, whether they are true, but what good they 
have done ; since every thing is valuable in proportion as 
it is useful, 



Here the champion of paganism and the false prophet 
stopped. That which grieved me most was, my father 
showed his approbation by crying. Bravo ! and clapping his 
hands. He also said, These are facts ; there is no deny- 
ing of facts : facts are stubborn things. 

True, Mr. Barnwell, replied my friend ; but before you 
pass judgment it becomes you to hear the other side. 

Mr. Clifford, continued she, I have attended to all that 
you have said, which indeed is all that can be said to the 
prejudice of Christianity with any colour of justice. You 
have shown that the first Christians were so unsociable, 
that they would worship no God but their own, and that 
they suffered persecution on that account. This their 
Founder taught them to expect. At the same time he 
prohibited them from returning any thing but good for 
evil, and blessing for cursing, and commanded them to 
pray for those who evil intreated and persecuted them, 
You have acknowledged that Christians have been perse- 
cuted by pagans, who appear to be your favourites ; but 
you have not proved that pagans have been persecuted by 
Christians. 

Be it so, said he, you must acknowledge that Christians 
have persecuted each other. 

Whom do you call Christians? replied my friend. If 
you give that name to all that have been so denominated 
by themselves or others, I grant your conclusion. 

Pray, Madam, said Mr. Clifford, whom do you call 
Christians ? 

Those, replied Eusebia, who imbibe the doctrine, the 
precepts, and the example of Christ. Did he by any of 
these teach his followers to destroy or injure those who 
believed not I 

Indeed, Madam, answered he, I cannot, I will not charge 
him with any such thing.. But will you deny all those to 
be Christians who have been concerned in persecution ? 

I might, said she, deny the far greater part of them te 
be such, without doing them any wrong. And if some few 
good mea have been drawn into those practices, it has been 



93 



because they " knew not what manner of spirit they were 
of." What they have done of this kind, they have done 
not only without, but against the authority of Christ ; 
Christianity, therefore, is not chargeable with their incon- 
sistencies. 

I acknowledge, Madam, said he, you seem to have the 
better of the argument ; but if the case be as you have re- 
presented it, there are but very few Christians. 

There are just so many. Sir, said she, as there are per- 
sons who are habitually influenced by the spirit and tem- 
per of Christ. It is to be lamented that Christians are not 
constantly so influenced ; but that unhappily there have 
been instances in which they have been guilty of the gross- 
est sins, and of persecution among the rest, and have 
thereby deviated from the Christian character. 

And pray, my kind instructress, cried Mr. Clifford, 
where do Christians live ? I have travelled over a conside- 
rable part of Europe, and I never found any, except indeed 
I have found them now. 

You need not wonder at that, Sir, replied she, if you 
consider that it is one of the properties of the servants of 
Jesus Christ to be unknown. The Jews did not know their 
Messiah, and therefore crucified him ; and the apostle 
John observed, that the world kne%v them not y because it 
knew him not. 

All this, cried he, is new to me, I assure you, Madam t 
but pray what do you think of the bulk of those who are 
denominated Christians ? 

O, cried my father, I can tell you that : they give us all 
to the devil. 

I beg, Mr. Barnwell, interrupted Mr. Clifford, that you 
will permit this amiable lady and me to finish our conver- 
sation ; for these are very important matters. Pray, Mad- 
am, be kind enough to answxr my question? 

The world, Sir, replied my friend, is represented irt 
Scripture as the kingdom of Satan ; and the bulk of man- 
kind are his subjects, and are engaged in the service of 
their father and sovereign. To this great company those 



91 

three furies you mentioned belong. Their religion is su- 
perstition and self-dependence ; their godliness, gain ; and 
they not only hate the children of God, but each other al- 
so ; for though in general the world loves its own, as you. 
Sir, showed in the case of the pagans, yet when their de- 
sires or their interests have clashed, they have given nu- 
merous proofs that they could murder each other with ve« 
ry little remorse. I will appeal to you, Sir, if the history 
of the world, both ecclesiastical and civii, be not a history 
of men resembling infernal spirits. 

There, Sir, exclaimed my father laughing, did 1 not 
tell you what would become of us ? 

Indeed, Mr. Barnwell, said he, this is a serious af- 
fair- I have frequently thought that the evil of which the 
religion of Jesus Christ appeared to me to have been the 
cause, sufficiently demonstrated that it was not of God ; 
but it now appears that his followers have been the suffer* 
era, and not the actors, in those inhuman tra^edie^ — But, 
my good friend, addressing himself to Lusebi^ accovoing 
to this view of things, a person cannot be a Christian un- 
less he be a saint. 

You judge rightly, Sir, replied Eusebia ; for if the 
apostles were saints, those who believe and practise as they 
did must be saints also. Ufg 

Mr. Clifford bowed to my dear friend, and acknowledg- 
ed that she had acquitted herself well.— But, cried he, 
Christianity is too sublime a thing for me to think of at- 
taining to it ; I should be almost as much discouraged as 
if I were going to take a voyage to the moon. 

You, my friend, exclaimed my father, are too honest for 
it : these saints, Sir, are the most arrant villains in nature. 
Here my father mentioned several persons whom he called 
saints, merely because they were Presbyterians, which is 
the name that he gives to all dissenters, and who he said 
to his certain knowledge had become bankrupts, and ruin- 
ed their creditors, who were ten times more honest than 
themselves without being saints. It is indeed a great 
wound to religion, when dissenters act improperly. The 



misconduct of a few persons who are not of the establish- 
ed religion, will always be placed by the enemies of god- 
liness to the account of dissenters at large ; whereas the 
dissenters are a great body of people, and, as might be ex- 
pected, have many persons among them who differ in 
nothing from the worst of mankind, except perhaps in do- 
ing in a sly and hypocritical manner those things which 
wicked men in the establishment, who neither fear nor 
regard reproof, do in the face of the sun. 

I am glad that our dear friend so fully confuted Mr. 
Clifford ; and I am not a little pleased that he was ingen- 
uous enough to confess it ; for it too frequently happens 
in disputes, that pride stands its ground after argument 
is defeated. 

When Mr. Clifford was gone, my father asked me what 
encouragement I had given him ; to which I replied, that 
he had given me very little, by publicly denying the truth 
of the Christian religion. I received for answer, that I 
Lad no concern with his religion ; that every person must 
answer for himself ; and a great deal more to the same 
purpose. But, with the divine assistance, I will sooner 
suffer every evil that can befall me, than marry either a 
freethinker, as these gentleman are pleased to call them* 
selves, or self-dependent Pharisaical hypocrite. 
Our friend Eusebia unites in love to you, with, 
My dear aunt, 

Your dutiful niece, 

MIRANDA BARNWELL, 



LETTER XVI. 

Prom Miss Miranda Barnwell to Mrs. Worthing ton. 

DEAR MADAM, 

J T is a week since I wrote my last letter ; and as I have 
received none fr,om you, I am fearful sosaaethieg of a dis- 
tressing nature has again occurred. 



96 



I am no longer In doubt concerning my father's inten- 
tion. The morning after Mr. Clifford had been here, 
when we were by ourselves, Miranda, said he. I desire 
you to give Mr. Clifford every proper encouragement in 
the prosecution of his addresses. Assure yourself, that if 
you should play the fool now, you will no: have such an 
offer any more ; for (I will not keep it a secret from you) 
I am determined to marry again. I believe I should not 
have thought of such a thing, if you had been as you used 
to be ; but I can take no pleasure in pretenders to reli- 
gion. I have therefore fixed my eye upon Charlotte 
Pink : she is a giri after my own heart, and indeed just 
what you used to be. Therefore I say again, that unless 
you take time by the forelock, you may chance to die an 
eld maid. 

Indeed, Sir, replied L Mr. Clifford knows my mind.- 
I plainly told him that I would never be married to a per- 
son who I had not some reason to believe was a sincere 
Christian ; and this answer you yourself, Sir, must ap- 
prove, if you wish my happiness. With regard to your 
marrying, I ought not to dictate to my parent, and tell him 
what he ought to do. All I will say is this : I think there 
is too great a disparity in your years : for I know Miss 
Pink is but about two-and-twenty. With respect to my 
eying an old maid, as that gives me no concern, I hope 
Sir v it will give you none ; since I well know, that if it be 
the will of God I should marry, he will provide me a 
proper husband. 

Alas, cried my father, the end I perceive will be this : 
you will soon offend this gentleman in such a manner, that 
he will come no more ; nay, I question if that be not the 
case already. Eusebia and you were enough to surfeit 
him with religion. He pretended to be confuted : yes ; 
he was just as much confuted as I was, Alas ! he knows 
the world : he thought he would please the children ; and 
so he did ; and laughed at them, I have no doubt, when 
he was gone. Men of his reading and knowledge, not to 
mention his fortune, if they go to see a lady, do not ex* 



97 

pect to clasp their hands before them while they say their 
catechism. 

To this I only replied, that it was possible Mr. Clifford 
might be as great a hypocrite as my father represented 
hi m . — However, his father was here yesterday, and I see 
no reason to doubt that he really perceived himself to be 
confuted, and was no hypocrite ; which last character I 
think much worse than that of an infidel, because an infi- 
del is more open to conviction. 

Our rector and Mr. Clifford were both at dinner, and 
-pent the afternoon at our house. As our conversation 
had so displeased my father, I determined to say as little 
as possible. But though he does not like to hear us talk, 
Le will not suffer us to be silent ; for no sooner had Mr. 
Law said, or rather muttered grace, as it is called, (which 
consisted of five or six words spoken very fast, and so Law* 
that nobody could tell what was said,) than my father told 
him, that if he did not take care he would lose one of his 
flock. I left my d.-.ughler. said he, with her aunt, while I 
was gone to Jamaica, and she has taken her to the meet- 
ing, and made Jaer keep company with Presbyterians, till 
she is ruined ; and it signifies nothing what I say ; she 
knows better than I. Miss Eusebia Neville too — I be- 
lieve I must write to her father ; for 1 dare say my daugh- 
ter will pervert her, if she has not done it already. I would 
have all persons keep to the religion to which they were 
brought up 

Hey ! Miss Barnwell, cried the rector, what is this I 
hear ? I always esteemed you the flower of my flock. The 
dissenters, child I their hearts may be good, though that is 
a disputable point ; but their heads are very weak. The 
church of England is undoubtedly, and is so esteemed by 
foreigners, the purest church upon earth : why then should 
they by unnecessary divisions rend the seamless coat of 
Christ ? 

I .an not at liberty, sir, replied I- to speak, because I 
should offend my father ; otherwise I have no doubt but I 

I 



9i> 

* 

could clear myself and the dissenters too, from these as- 
persions 

Me ? cried my father, pray say what you please ; I shall 
be glad if Mr. Law will have the goodness to set you right. 

Come, Miss Barnwell, said Mr. Law, tell me what fault 
you can find with the church of Lngland I You will please 
to observe, Sir, replied I, that I only proposed to act upon 
the defensive ; but as you desire me to do otherwise, I 
must truly tell you, that there appear to me to be very few 
things in which the church of Lngland resembles the New 
Testament churches. 

I suppose, said Mr. Law, that one of those things is, 
their meeting together for the worship of God. 

The principal thing, Sir, replied I, in which the church 
of England resembles the New Testament churches, ap- 
pears to me to be, the public reading of the Scriptures. 
The resemblance in meeting together for the worship of 
God seems rather questionable There is no church men- 
tioned in the New Testament, which did not assemble for 
divine worship in one place : you will not say that the 
church of England does this. When a church became too 
numerous to meet in one pV.ce, then its members divided ; 
and those who went away formed another church, distinct 
from, and entirely independent of that which they had 
left. Christianity was sadly corrupted before any one 
church or society of Christians, with its bishop, pretended 
to exercise authority over other churches and their bi- 
shops : so that, instead of the church of England's resem- 
bling the apostolic churches in this particular, it resembles 
in it none but the church of Rome, and those other nation- 
al churches which have copied after that model 

Well done, Madam, cried Mr. Clifford: I will bet fifty 
guineas on her head, Sir, that she distances you. 

Mr. Clifford, replied the rector, I have never had oc- 
casion to carry on disputes of this kind ; whereas Miss 
iB^rnwell, I perceive, is armed cap-a-pee. (I hen address- 
(iagidiiaa&self to me) As to the Independents, Madam! whose 
cause, I perceive, you espouse, they he.ve nci a bishop 



93 

among them ; whereas every one knows that the primitive 
churches were governed by bishops ; and so is the church 
of England. 

You say, Sir, replied I, that the Independents have not. 
a bishop among them. This I must beg leave to call in 
question. Every congregational church, whether Baptist; 
or Pedobaptist, has one bishop at least, who presides over 
it ; and some of them have two, or more, as the primitive 
churches had Custom has indeed made the term Minis- 
ter familiar to them ; but if you were to ask those minis- 
ters whether they are bishops, they would answer in the 
affirmative. Their having the name of bishop, however, 
would be of no importance, if their employment and cha~ 
racter were not similar to that of the bishops mentioned in 
the New Testament But permit me, Sir, to ask, Do the 
hishops of the church of England resemble the bishops 
mentioned in the New Testament? Was not the see of 
those bishops one church or congregation only ? Where 
do we read of archbishops or lord bishops ? Nay, was not 
a bishop expressly prohibited from lording it over God's 
heritage ? What would they have thought if they had 
been told that bishops would arise who would be lords 
over a thousand congregations ? Would they not have 
cried out, This is antichrist ! And would they not have 
judged rightly ? For is not antichrist represented as seat- 
ed in God's place, and as exercising his authority ? Arc 
we to suppose that antichrist dwells only at Rome ? Ke 
who claims the title of Universal Bishop, is undoubtedly 
the head of the grand apostacy ; but are there not many in 
England, and other places, who follow his steps ? Are 
there not some, who tread almost upon his heels ? And 
will they not, so far as they are confederates in his guilt, 
be partakers of his punishment ? I am at the same time 
ready to own, that there have been bishops in the church 
of England, and even in the church of Rome, who would 
have been ornaments to any church ; for the true nature 
of Christ's kingdom has not long been clearly discerned. 
We may therefore say of such, that although they were in 
those churches, they were not of them. 



Lor v. 



100 

I do not like, Madam, replied Mr. Law, to see young 
persons too positive. You talk much of the New Testa- 
ment: I wish you understood it better. Pray tell me 
whether the apostles were bishops of no more churches 
than one ; and also whether they did not go from place to 
place, to confirm the different churches which they had 
gathered? In confirmation, therefore, as well as in having 
bishops over many churches, the church of England agrees 
exactly with the New Testament churches ; while the In- 
dependents dissent as much, in these particulars, from the 
New Testament, as they do from the church of England. 

If to be in earnest, Sir, replied I, is to be positive, I 
esteem it no crime. I have no inclination to offend Mr. 
Law, or any person living. But you have impressed me 
into the controversy ; and if my sentiments are true, they 
cannot be defended too earnestly ; if false, they deserve 
not to be defended at all. The apostles, you say, were 
bishops of several churches. To this, Sir, it may be suf- 
ficient to reply, that the apostles were twelve witnesses, 
sent by Christ to preach the gospel, or to testify what they 
had seen and heard ; that the holy spirit confirmed their 
testimony by the miraculous powers with which he endow- 
ed them ; and that the keys of the kingdom of Heaven 
were delivered to them, by which is denoted the power 
that they were to exercise, under the direction of the holy 
Spirit, of binding over to everlasting destruction presump- 
tuous, unbelieving sinners, or loosing men from their ini- 
quities, and placing them in the glorious liberty of the sons 
of God. Hence it appears, that in their apostolic office, 
■hey neither had successors, nor could have any. Their 
writings, however, like their words, continue to carry life 
or death wherever they come. They are either the savour 
of life unto life, or of death unto death ; and men will be 
acquitted or condemned at the bar of Cod according to 
their gospel. But tell me, Sir, whom they nominated, or 
ordained, to succeed them ? Or, if they have successors, 
whether those successors can or dare say as they did, We 
arc of God: he that knvzveth God* hear eth us; he that is not 



101 



rf Gccl, heareth not us ? The bishop of Rome indeed claims 
the title of Successor of St. Peter, and consistently founds 
his infallibility, and his power of binding and loosing, on 
that claim ; and it will be difficult to overthrow it, if we once 
grant that the apostles left any successors to their office. 
With regard to their going from place to place to confirm 
the churches which had been gathered through their 
preaching of the gospel, the plain fact was this : they went 
to see if they continued in the faith and crder in which 
they had left them, and to confirm them in the truth by 
preaching the same gospel which they had before preach- 
ed. Worldly men are ambitious to be uppermost. Those 
time-serving Christians, therefore, who had found out that 
it was possible to make a gain of godliness, exalted them- 
selves, with the assistance of their dependants, into a sta- 
tion somew T hat resembling that of the apostles, and pre- 
tended to be their successors. But when, after they were 
thus exalted, they found nothing to do for which they w 7 ere 
qualified, they fixed upon the going of the apostles from 
place to place to confirm the churches, as that which would 
furnish them with a plea for usurping their ofike, and, in 
imitation of them, as they pretended, went round their di- 
oceses, in a lordly manner, and at stated times, to lay their 
hands on the heads of ignorant children. 

I see, Madam, cried Mr. Law, you have imbibed the 
poison of fanaticism. Alas ! w hat will become of our poor 
church I I may well say with the prophet, that she has 
brought up children, and they have rebelled against her. 
She has enemies without, and enemies within. Almost 
from the time, Mr. Barnwell, that you set off for Jamaica, 
old Mr. Siiverwood, who is nearly superannuated, has em- 
ployed a methodistical curate. The people, for several 
miles round, leave their own parish churches, and their 
lawful ministers, to go to hear him ; and old Siiverwood is 
so pleased to see his church crowded, not caring how ma- 
ny neighbouring churches are empty, that he will not dis- 
miss him. Such preachers, I have long observed, make a 
greater addition to the number of dissenters than is made 

12 



102 



by the preaching of the dissenters themselves. After he 
has left the place, not one in ten of those who go to hear 
him will return to their own parish churches ; and if we 
ask them the reason, they will tell us with the greatest 
effrontery, that we do not preach the gospel, although ma- 
ny of them are so ignorant, that they scarcely know when 
their book is right end upward. 

I do not plead the cause, Sir, replied I, of indecorous 
behaviour, nor of any thing which is contrary to Christian 
meekness. But the accusation of which you speak, though 
it should not always be tempered with meekness, may be 
just. In that case it is a great mercy when evangelical 
ministers arise in the church of England. In this I view 
the hand of God, who, by succeeding their ministerial la- 
bours, brings his servants out of that church. 

I perceive, cried Mr. Law, that yoaare determined to 
show the church of England no favour; so true is the old 
proverb, that one renegaclo is worse than ten Turks But 
let us proceed to another thing. Are not our articles ex- 
cellent ? 

With regard, Sir, to the articles of your church. I ac- 
knowledge that for the most part they are a form of scund 
words; notwithstanding which, I consider them as a great 
defect in its constitution. It is notorious, that almost all 
those who are brought up in our public seminaries to the 
profession of preaching, think they have a right to exer- 
cise that profession, whether they believe the gospel or 
not. The articles were intended by the Reformers to 
keep unbelievers out of the church ; but if, instead of that 
weak fence, they had made a wail ten times as high, and a 
hundred times as broad as that of Babylon, unbelievers 
would have either broken through, or climbed over, as long 
as emoluments were attached to the clerical office. 

Alas, cried my father, religious disputes are generally 
unprofitable ; and after all that is said and done, a person 
can be no more than honest. 

True, Sir, said Mr. Law, honesty and Christianity are 
synonimous terms. But as for those who leave the 



JOS 

church, faith, according to them, is every thing, notwith- 
standing St. James tells us that the deviis believe and 
tremble. 

Permit me, Sir, replied I, to ask you, in what manner, 
after having taken a solemn oath of your belief of the 
thirty-nine articles, you can justify your preaching in op- 
position to them ? 

Here Mr. Clifford cried out, Come, come, Sir, I can- 
not say, leave off while you arc well ; but, as a friend, I ad- 
vise you to leave off before you are worse. What a cle- 
ver parson I should have made ! No ; I am too honest to be 
a parson ; I dare say Miss Barnwell thinks I am ; don't 
you, Madam ? 

I confess, Sir, replied I, if I tell the truth, I have no 
great opinion of your honesty. That contempt which you 
have always shown for divine revelation, without sufficient- 
ly examining it and praying to God for illumination, de- 
monstrates that you have been unfaithful in the manage- 
ment of that talent which the supreme Lord of all entrust- 
ed to your care. Thus, Sir, you have been dishonest to 
your ow*n soul, and to the soul of your son. I confess, if 
in this state of unbelief you had undertaken the care of the 
souls of others for the sake of filthy lucre, you would have 
received the greater condemnation ; but as it is, you are 
tery unwise and very dishonest. Moreover, Sir, you do 
not treat things of infinite moment with that seriousness 
which might be expected from your years, and which their 
importance demands. 

There, Sir, cried Mr. Law, I am glad you have come 
in for your share of correction. But I desire to know, 
Madam, how, according to the doctrine of Calvin, Mr. 
Clifford can be blameable for being an unbeliever ; since, 
if he be destitute of faith, he is only without that which 
God has not been pleased to give him ? 

Well done, cried my father, I will be bound for it, Mr. 
Law, you have set her fast there. 

Alas, my dear father, said I, every argument which is 
opposed to divine revelation is like fiax opposed to the do- 



104 



vouring fire. You will acknowledge, Mr. Law, that if a 
man was arraigned for murder, and he were to plead that 
he was naturally choleric and revengeful, it would rather 
aggravate than extenuate his crime. In like manner, a 
man can only plead at the bar of God, that he was an un- 
believer, because he was naturally wicked, and had no taste 
for divine and heavenly things. But this plea will be in- 
admissible. TV/ry f said our Lord to the unbelieving Jews> 
even of yourselves judge ye not what is right ? 

Tea was now brought in, which put an end to the con- 
troversy. 

Our friend Eusebia is writing to you, and will give you 
an account of the conversation she had with Mr. Clifford, 
My dear aunt, I ever remain 
Your dutiful niece, 

MIRANDA BARNWELL, 

LETTER XVII. 

From Miss Eusebia Neville to Mrs. Worthing ton, 

DEAR MADAM, 

I CONTINUE at Barnwell, where I expected to have 
received, before this time, a letter from my kind friend. 
I hope no new misfortune has prevented it. But if that 
should have been the case, I am certain that my dear Mrs. 
Worthington will not be too much dejected. The afflic- 
tion, which you have experienced, has taught you and me, 
that there is no setting our nest on high out of the reach 
of evil, any otherwise than by laying up our treasure m 
Heaven. There only it is secure. 

I have been troubling myself about what will be the 
consequence after I return home. I intend to surfer any 
thing which God shall permit to come upon me> rather 



105 



than by my attendance countenance an idolatrous worship," 
I have through the divine mercy been much supported by 
the scriptural declaration, that all things work together for 
good to them that love God ; and also by what our Lord said 
to Martha, Thou art careful and troubled about ?na?iy things ; 
but one thing is needful ; and Mary hath chosen that good 
part, which shall not be taken away, from her. I believe we 
are naturally too prone to be harassed and distressed about 
evils, which peradventure will never be permitted to befall 
us, how inevitable soever we may think them ; which, if 
they do come, we may be supported under in such a man- 
ner as we could scarcely have thought of ; or from which 
an unexpected way may be prepared for our escape. If, 
Madam, we possess that pearl of great price which a wise 
merchant Would sell all that he has to purchase, it becomes 
us to do our duty in our present circumstances, and then 
resign ourselves entirely to the will of God ; since he who 
has given his own Son to die for us, will not suffer us to 
want any thing that is really for cur advantage. 

Your niece has given you an account of her conversation 
with Mr. Law nearly as it was conducted ; only I perceive 
she has omitted some few things spoken by her father not 
at all to his honour as a Christian. She undoubtedly sup- 
pressed them because he is her father, and because it is 
therefore her duty to cast a veil over his infirmities. Mr. 
Law gave the first offence by reviling the dissenters. Not- 
withstanding he is what is called a good-natured man, I 
perceived by some hints he dropped while we were at tea, 
that he could hardly bear several things that Miranda had 
said. At length, Mr. Clifford exclaimed, I really think, 
Sir, that Miss Barnwell has treated you with all the decen- 
cy and respect the nature of the controversy would admit. 
The slut used me with some severity : but I always say 
that a man should never either dispute, or attempt to be a 
member of parliament, until he is prepared to hear the 
worst that can be said, both of himself and of the cause he 
defends. 

The old gentleman, who loves to talk, said to Mr. Bam- 



106 



well after Mr. Law was gone, Pray, Sir, is this young la- 
dy always so sparing of her words ? I think, Madam, (turn- 
ing to me,) those lips have not been unclosed since dkper, 
except to admit the edge of the painted porcelain. 

Ah,, my friend, cried Mr. Barnwell, shaking his head, 
if you had heard her and your Charles the other evening, 
I dare say you would have thought her a proper counter- 
part to Ben Jonson's silent woman. 

Well, said Mr. Clifford, this makes good an observation 
which I have often made, that if persons know how to 
hold their tongue, it is almost certain they know how to 
talk. My Charles, continued he, says a great deal about 
you : but as I love a woman should be humble, I believe I 
shall keep it a secret. This, however, I must say ; he was 
so altered when he came home, that I should not have 
known him, if his face had been changed as much as his 
mind. 

I am glad to hear it, Sir, replied I. 
I do not know, Madam, said he, why you should. For 
my part, I do not see much necessity.for it. Except in 
the article of religion, my boy is not a very faulty charac- 
ter. He is brave, generous, and humane, and neither a 
drunkard nor a debauchee ; and these are great matters as 
times go. With regard to religion, I was early set against 
it myself, by seeing it made a trade of. Do you think the 
parson believes a tittle more of Christianity than I do ? No, 
nor half of them ; nor yet a tenth part of the other halt 
I am amazed, therefore, at their impudence, in undertak- 
ing to make others believe what they do not believe them- 
selves ; and much more so at their claiming wages, when 
they are conscious they deserve the pillory as impostors. 
Who in their senses can receive or believe a religion, 
which is made as mere a craft of as that of Demetrius the 
shrine-maker ? 

I am sorry, Mr. Clifford, answered I, that you canned 
distinguish between the pure religion of Jesus Christ and 
the corruption of it, especially, as that corruption was fore- 
told in the Revelation as minutely as if that book had been 



107 



written in modern times, It was there predicted, that the 
kings of the earth would support a set of spiritual mer- 
chants, who should traffic in the souls of men. Your see- 
ing this, Sir, come to pass, ought rather to have confirmed 
you in the truth of the Christian religion than have caused 
you to doubt it. 

Yes, Madam, said he, but (you will pardon me) the 
miracles which have been wrought by holy jugglers in your 
church, many of whom have been detected in their pious 
frauds, are enough to make one sick of miracles. It would 
be a miracle indeed if I should ever believe in miracles. 

Do you think, Sir, replied I, that it would be w ise to 
conclude, from the number of counterfeit shillings, that 
there have been no real ones? I am sure you do not. On 
the contrary, the existence of counterieits is a proof that 
there have been those which were genuine. But with res- 
pect to false miracles, the Scripture also informs us, that 
the coming of antichrist was to be after the working of Sa- 
tan, with all powers, and signs, and lying wonders ; so that 
if wicked men had not arisen, impiously imitating the 
mighty power of God in their pious frauds as you justly 
call them, a powerful evidence w r ould have been lost of the 
truth of those miracles which are recorded in Scripture. 

And pray, Miss Neville, said he, who do you think an- 
tichrist is ? 

A body of people, Sir, replied I, who, under the name 
of Christ, are in reality opposed to Christ : and such is the 
church of Rome, and every other church which so far 
agrees w ith it as to render Christianity subservient to its 
own ambitious purposes. 

I did not hesitate, Madam, to speak the truth ; for I 
knew it must soon be discovered that I am what is called a 
heretic. 

Mr. Barnwell was surprised. Are you in earnest, Miss 
Neville, said he, or in jest? I have thought ever since you 
have been here, that you have talked differently from what 
you used to do ; but I am now r convinced you are as much 
8 protectant as I am, I suppose this is my daughter's do 



108 



ing. I dare say she will receive no thanks from your la- 
ther. Indeed, Madam, I think every person ought to keep 
to the religion to which he was brought up. 

I have had a dispute with my son, said Mr. Clifford, 
concerning your being a catholic or a protestant; but I 
•find I was in the wrong. He was positive, whatever your 
friends were, that you were not a catholic. Well, ladies, 
you have almost made a convert of him between you : I 
doubt you will not have the same success with me. Now, 
for instance, Miss Neville, can you seriously think that a 
person could possibly be restored to life after he began to 
putrify, as Lazarus did, and indeed must do after, in so 
warm a climate, he had been dead four days ? I fear you 
will not give me so good an answer as when I asked 
who antichrist was. There, indeed, you hit the nail on 
the head ; for a tribe of hireling state -priests would, I con- 
fess, be no honour to any religion. 

I saw a poor man, replied I, some time past, who had 
found a watch that had been run over by the wheels of a 
waggon, and both sides of which w T ere nearly crushed to- 
gether. Do you think, Sir, he would be able to repair it? 

I think he would not, replied he. 

But although, Sir, said I, this poor man might not be 
able to repair it, you will not deny that it was in the pow- 
er of the maker to repair it. Apply this to the case of 
Lazarus. You and I should indeed have been foiled if we 
had attempted to raise Lazarus from the dead ; but he 
who made him was able to do it, Indeed, Sir, I may tru- 
ly say of you, as Christ said to the Sadducees, who also 
disbelieved the resurrection, That you err, not knowing 
the Scriptures, nor the power of God. 

I must confess, Madam, answered he, that the com- 
parison is plausible, though not quite convincing ; since I 
know very well that a watch is made by a watch-maker, 
but I have not equal reason, nor indeed any reason to be- 
lieve, that he who was said to restore Lazarus to life was 
he who made him. I acknowledge, indeed, that the Scrip- 
tures, sneaking concerning Jesus, declare that ^Jijhinp-s 



109 

were created by him and for him, and that he is the true 
God and eternal life ; and I despise the meanness of those, 
who, in order to make the writings of the followers of 
Jesus tenable, explain away their obvious meaning. They 
would act more like honest men, if they either received 
the whole, or rejected them, as I do, altogether. 

I am of your mind, Sir, answered I, in that respect- 
But notwithstanding I approve of your not endeavouring 
to corrupt the Scriptures, I am sorry that you should re- 
ject them altogether, or in any measure ; since, although 
they should prove to have no foundation in truth, I am 
better off than you, because at least they render me happy 
in this world : but in case they should prove true, as I 
doubt not they will, you will be miserable, and I happy, 
in another. However, Sir, you may fancy that Jesus of 
Nazareth and his disciples were deceivers, you can have 
no assurance that that was the ease ; no, nor yet any foun- 
dation supported by the least probability that it was so. 
Therefore, Mr. Clifford is playing a desperate game, in 
which he has staked his soul against a feather ; yes, Sir, 
and much less than a feather. For I can tell him what 
he may think to be a secret ; he is very unhappy, and fre- 
quently wishes he had never existed, and even envies the 
happiness of the dog that follows him, and of the horse 
upon which he rides. He indeed strives to put away 
these thoughts that trouble him ; but, like the stone of 
the fabled Sisyphus, they return upon him. 

I must acknowledge, Madam, replied he, for I love to 
be ingenuous, that I have not been so happy as I could 
have wished. It is far from being pleasant to live in doubt 
and uncertainty, and to have all our views bounded by the 
grave ; and I confess, I should not like when I leave the 
world to take a leap in the dark, if it could be prevented. 
But I endeavour to bear with fortitude those evils which 
cannot be avoided. Besides, no mortal can believe what 
he pleases : we assent or deny, in all cases, according to 

K 



no 

the evidence which is brought to support or invalidate the 
matter in question. 

I told Mr. Clifford, that if this was true, then unbelief 
was certainly no sin. Or rather, said I, there would be no 
such person as a deist where the gospel is preached, or as 
an atheist where the sun enlightens the earth. But shall 
we say, that the Supreme Being has not sufficiently mani- 
fested his eternal power and godhead in the things which 
he has made ? Does not the return of day and night, and 
of the different seasons, demonstrate, that he who made, 
still governs the universe ? The heavenly bodies, together 
with this earth, notwithstanding their amazing magnitude, 
and their distance from each other, perform their revolu- 
tions with such exactness, that it would be dishonouring 
them to compare them with the most curious timepiece 
that has ever been invented. The eye, the ear, the hand ! 
The creatures made for our use, and the food provided for 
their sustenance ! But why do I mention the proofs 
of a God ? The evidence is infinite. And yet, Sir, we 
find, that men do not assent to this truth in any propor- 
tion to its evidence. Sin has so biassed our judgments, 
that foolish men still say in their hearts, if not with 
their lips, that there is no God. The evidence also of 
the truth of revelation is not rejected because of its 
weakness, but in consequence of human depravity. That 
sacred book begins with an account of the creation of 
the world, and of the fall of our first parents, of which 
last truth we see and feel the dire effects every day. 
The next important thing recorded is, a promise that 
the seed of the woman should bruise the head of the 
serpent, accompanied with a declaration that there would 
be two different kinds of people in the world, between 
whom there should be a continual enmity. This is a sum- 
mary view of the Old and New Testament. 

Mr. Barnwell, who had been silent some time, cried 
out, well, Miss Neville, you may stop now ; my friend and 
I are to be given to the devil, I know very well, without 



Ill 



your saying any thing else. You, and my daughter, and 
her aunt, and perhaps half a score more, are the elect ; 
and x\lr. Clifford, and I, and every body else, are repro- 
bates. Tell the truth, Madam ; is not that your senti- 
ment ? 

I have no right, answered I, to say, that the greatest sin- 
ner on earth is a reprobate ; since mercy is proclaimed in 
the gospel to the chief of sinners. Nor has any person on 
earth reason to conclude himself a reprobate, unless he 
have formed a settled resolution to trample under foot the 
blood of the Saviour ; and even thousands, I am persuad- 
ed, of this description, have had their fetters knocked off, 
and have been brought into the glorious light and liberty 
of the sons of God. You perceive, Sir, I do not confine 
the number of those who will be saved, to myself and nine 
or ten more, as you say I do. 

I beg, Mr. Barnwell, said Mr. Clifford, you will not in- 
terrupt us. You will oblige me, Madam, by resuming 
the subject. 

I have told you, Sir, replied I, or I meant to tell you* 
that the whole of divine revelation is little more thaii an 
account of the methods which God has taken to accom- 
plish his promise, that the seed of the woman should bruise 
the head of the serpent. Abraham was informed that this 
seed, in which all the families of the earth were to be 
blessed, would descend from him. The sacrifices under 
the law, were the gospel preached to the Israelites. And 
all the prophets, though they lived in different ages, agreed 
in declaring, that a glorious Personage would arise for 
the deliverance of Israel and of the Gentiles : yet they 
seemed to damp the hopes of the Jews, by showing them 
that he would be a sufferer, as well as a lawgiver and de- 
liverer. If that people had understood these prophecies, 
they would not have been fulfilled : but they almost uni- 
versally expected that the Messiah would deliver them 
from the Roman yoke, and make them a great and flourish- 
ing nation. These prejudices were not eradicated from 
the breasts of the disciples till after the. resurrection of 



112 

Christ. It is plain from the prophetic writings, examined 
without prejudice, that the Messiah came to destroy the 
kingdom of Satan ; and that, though he was to exalt his 
followers, they were not to be great in the present world. 
The life, death, resurrection, and ascension of the Saviour, 
exactly correspond to the prophecies concerning him. If 
it be asked, why then the Jews did not believe ? I answer, 
The prophet Isaiah had long before declared that the di- 
vine report would not be believed: that the Messiah would 
be despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and ac- 
quainted with grief; and that his nation would hide their 
faces from, and despise him. Surely, says the same pro- 
phet, he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows ; yet 
we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. 
But he «vm wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised 
for our iniquities ; the chastisement of our peace was upon 
him, and with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep, 
have gone astray ; we have turned every one to his own 
way '; and the Lord hath lend on him the iniquity of us all. 
He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not 
his mouth : he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as 
a sheep, before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his 
mouth* It appears to me, Sir, continued I, that the world 
was created with no other view than that it might be the 
stage of this grand transaction, compared with which, the 
sun, moon, and stars, yea, heaven and earth, and angels 
and men, hide their diminished heads. Believe me, Sir, 
I would not, for one year only, be in that state of doubt 
and uncertainty wherein you are, if I might be made em- 
press of the globe. 

I believe you, said he, to be in earnest : but your years 
are nothing. The older you grow, the less able you will 
be to believe such things as shock your reason. Alas, my 
child, this earth is a mole-hill if compared with the sun, 
or with some of the planets which revolve around him: 
and what are they when compared with the universe ! I 
have always thought it a very sublime expression of the 
prophet Isaiah, that in comparison of the Deity, the na- 



213 



lions are as the drop of a bucket. Reason tells us, that 
you and I, and even our earth and all its inhabitants, are in- 
finitely beneath his notice ; yea, more so than the ants in 
a mole-hill are beneath ours. 

We never run into greater errors, Sir, replied I, than 
when we measure the Almighty by ourselves. You think 
if you were so great, you would not condescend to regard 
things so small. Against such condescension your reason, 
revolts. But reason itself became depraved, and unreason- 
able, at the fall of our first parents. They reasoned so bad- 
ly as to imagine that they could hide themselves from the 
divine presence among the trees of the garden But when 
God has renewed us in the spirit of our mind, after his 
own image, then our reason and divine revelation begin to 
speak nearly the same language. I believe, therefore, no- 
thing but wh^t is agreeable to my reason. My reason tells 
me, that however I may disregard the ants in a mole -hill, 
their Maker does not disregard them, nor yet the smallest 
microscopic animalcule, shoals of which sport in a drop of 
water. He would not have created them unless to answer 
some valuable end, though we, perhaps, are unacquainted 
with it ; nor would he otherwise continue to open his mu- 
nificent hand, and to give them their meat in due season. 
With regard to mankind, the mo^t High having given 
them ability to contemplate both himself and his works, it 
is reasonable to suppose that he intends to enlarge the 
number of the Angelic armies from the human race* As 
to the small spot which we inhabit, peradventure it is the 
nursery of the universe ; and with respect to our weak- 
ness, and our wants, they teach us that we can never be 
above a state of humble dependence. Humility is a virtue 
of all others the best adapted for the benefit of society, and 
the best calculated to make us proper companions for him 
who is infinitely condescending, and who abhors the proud 
above all other sinners. The character of Jesus Christ 
was the character of the invisible Jehovah; for he was the 
brightness of his glory, and the express moral image of 
his person. If, therefore, he became a descendant of Da* 

K 2 



114 



vid at a time when the posterity of that prince were re- 
duced to low circumstances, and if- he entered his do- 
minions in a stable, we may cease to wonder that he con- 
descended to^ visit so smaii a part of his works as this 
earth 

If I grant all this, answered Mr. Clifford, yet it is high- 
ly unreasonable to suppose, that the only-begotten and 
well-beloved Son of God should come into this world upon 
so unnecessary an errand as that of making an atonement 
for sins which had been, and which would be committed, 
Is it credible that a good and gracious Being would be so 
inexorable as not to pardon sinners upon repentance, ex- 
cept one suffered for their crimes, and he no less a. person 
than his equal, God manifest in flesh, as Christians term 
l»im, and, indeed, justly, if what they call revelation be 
true ? This is to circumscribe the power of the Deity, and 
to make it less than that of an earthly magistrate, who can 
pardon offenders upon the hopes of amendment. 

I am persuaded, Sir, replied 1, that Satan, when he had 
seduced our first parents, supposed that their ruin was in- 
evitable, and that it was beyond the power of God to res- 
tore them to his favour. An earthly magistrate can, and 
frequently does pardon very atrocious crimes ; however, 
when he does so, justice itself suffers. But our God can- 
not imitate his creatures in doing wrong; for a power to 
act improperly and unjustly would imply weakness and 
imperfection. Therefore, if God saved sinners, it was ne- 
cessary he should do it in a way of justice; and as, in ail 
his works with which we are acquainted, he has done every 
thing in the nearest as well as the best way, my reason 
tells me, that no cheaper remedy could have been provid- 
ed for fallen creatures than the Redeemer's obeying and 
dying in their stead. 

I confess, young lady, said he, that you have confuted 
me; but I am not convinced. For 1 have many ti . es 
•wished, and even prayed, that if I did wrong in rejecting 
Jesus of Nazareth, God would strike me with some heavy- 
judgment, that I might be convinced of my crime, though 



115 

I paid ever so dearly for it ; but no judgment has been in- 
flicted upon me. 

An atheist, Sir, replied I, might argue in a similar 
manner, and might say, If there be a God, why does bfc 
not avenge himself upon me, seeing I deny his existence I 
I will give the same answer to you which I should give to 
him. You must surely think yourself a person of conside- 
rable consequence, to suppose that the Creator of the 
world will go out of his way, to inflict a judgment upon 
you whenever you please to call for it. Be assured, Sir* 
that God will proceed in his own way, and that at a proper 
time he will call you to an account, although for the pre- 
sent he exercise forbearance towards you, and notwith- 
standing you abuse that forbearance to your greater des- 
truction. 

My friend, cried Mr. Barnwell, (looking at Mr Clif- 
ford,) you may as well be silent. " When did you ever 
know a woman at a loss for words I I mind all that has 
been said just as much as I should a presbyterian sermon, 
And you, Miss Neville, had better spare your breath. If 
you think to make a convert of this gentleman, you will 
find yourself egregiously disappointed. He is a very 
honest man already ; and I do not know what he can be 
more. 

These ladies, said Mr. Clifford, are very able consider- 
ing their years, to defend their sentiments : but I believe, 
friend Barnwell, it is too late in the day for you and me to 
think of altering for the better. However, ladies, I hum- 
bly thank you for the agreeable conversation you have been 
the occasion of. 

Since I wrote the above, Mr. Pink and his daughters 
have drank tea here. Miss Pink, I could perceive, watch- 
ed every opportunity to say something smart ; and, to do 
her justice, she does not want that kind of wit which qua- 
lifies a person for shining in company. Your niece has 
-since told me, that she once thought this character to be 
the summit of excellence, and imagined she had some 
pretensions to it herself. But, added she, I desire to ya- 



1 16 

iue nothing now but as it contributes to promote the di- 
vine glory, and my own everlasting felicity. 

Miss Barnwell and I, in dressing our heads, had not scru- 
pulously adhered to the mode. I do not think it right to 
aim at singularity : at the same time I never intend to be 
a slave to fashion, especially so absurd a one as that of en- 
larging the head to twice its naturU size. 

Miss Pink could not avoid showing her wit at our ex- 
pense. Once she asked if we had escaped out of some 
nunnery ; at another time, if we intended to lead the fa- 
shion. But, cried she archly, though you have lowered 
your top-sails, ladies, you will find it a difficult matter to 
move contrary to the wind. 

I replied, that if we did not move contrary to the course 
of this world, we should be in danger of a greater ship- 
wreck than she perhaps was aware of. 

Whatever became of her, she said, she should like a 
good deal of company. 

You have nothing to do then, replied I, but to keep 
straight forward in the path you seem to have taken. 

My stay here, if God permit, will be eight or nine 
days more ; in which time I "hope to be favoured with a 
letter from my friend. 

Dear Madam, 

I am, with great esteem, 

Your very humble servant, 

EUSEBIA NEVILLE, 



LETTER XVIII. 

From Mrs. War thing-ton to 31iss Eazebia Neinlle. 

MY DEAR MISS NEVILLE, 

^ToUH letters came to hand, as did also those of my 
niece. 1 have, I thank God, been pretty well ; but the 
loss which I have so unexpectedly sustained has fluttered 



11? 

uiy spirits, and rather indisposed me for writing, which is 
the only reason you have not heard from me before. 

My dear children, I have been reading again your live 
letters, and wish to say a great deal in answer ; but I can- 
not write a long letter at present. Let me not omit, how- 
ever, to tell my dear niece, that the person her father has 
pointed out to her for a husband, notwithstanding his riches, 
is by no means qualified for that relation ; and that I am glad 
to find she has given him such a peremptory denial. If 
indeed what either of you said has had a good effect on him, 
as his father has intimated, there is no doubt but she will 
have his company again: if not, she is better without him. 
There are many instances where God makes such per- 
sons monuments of his mercy; but, generally speaking, I 
believe the most High chooses the vessels he intends foF 
his heavenly temple from the families of his servants. 
When he acts differently, there is singular reason to adore 
his goodness ; and I have observed, that such persons, 
generally speaking, have a deeper sense of his distin- 
guishing mercy than others. This was remarkably the 
case with the apostle Paul ; who, though religiously edu- 
cated, yet, on account of his having persecuted Christ in 
his members, was ever after filled with self-abasement. 
That abiding sense which he had of God's electing love* 
is conspicuous in almost every page of his writings. 

To take irreligious husbands or wives, and trust to what 
God may afterwards do, is highly presumptuous. The 
world, our own innate depravity, and the wicked spirit, 
will be continually hindering us in our pilgrimage to the 
heavenly Canaan: and be assured, my dear friend, we 
shall all find in the way difficulties sufficiently numerous, 
without adding to their number by our imprudence. Be- 
sides, if we are sincere in our prayers, that God would 
deliver us from temptations, or trials, we shall endeavour 
to avoid them as much as lies in our power. 

In the choice of our occupations, of our acquaintance, 
of the place where we worship God, and especially of so 
near a friend as a husband, it should be our earnest desire 



118 



that God may be glorified, which he will be if the good 
of our own souls is promoted No part of our conduct in 
relation to these things ought to be passed over with inat- 
tention. It becomes us to honour God respecting our 
time, our houses, our furniture, our dress, our food, and 
our expenses of every kind. My children, there are 
no little sins : the least can only be expiated by the blood 
of Christ. We can be at no loss how to act in every sta- 
tion of life, if we are willing to regulate our conduct by 
God's word. I am pleased with your telling me in what 
manner you dress your heads. Let the world laugh on. 
The holy Spirit has not neglected to inform us in what 
manner women professing godliness ought to adorn them- 
selves. Whose adorning, says the apostle Peter, let it not 
be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, cr of wearing 
of gold, or of putting on of 'apparel ; but let it be the hidden- 
man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the 
ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of 
God of great price. This ornament is not only valuable i$ 
the sight of God, but it will make us far more esteemed 
by our fellow-mortals than that levity in dress which cha- 
racterizes the women of the present day. When I say es- 
teemed by our fellow-mortals, I mean the wise and valua 
ble part of them, whose good opinion alone can be an ho- 
nour to us. With regard to the world, let us do nothing 
intentionally to offend them : at the same time I would not 
go one step out of my road to heaven to oblige them. 

I am pleased with the easy, yet effectual method which 
you took to silence the clamours of infidelity. Mr. Clif- 
ford thought the wicked lives of pretended Christians an 
unanswerable objection against Christianity itself; not con- 
sidering that none are in reality Christians, but they who 
walk in measure as Christ walked. The argument taken 
from the harmony among the different nations and sects of 
pagans (which Mr. Clifford told you was so great as even 
to extend to the worshipping of each other's gods) only 
proves that they were all under the dominion of Satan, and 
that his kingdom was not divided against itself. When 



H9 



mc arose among them who taught the unity of the divine 
Being, and the immortality of the soul, which spark of 
light he most probably had struck from divine revelation, 
we find them not so complaisant to him. The inoffensive 
Socrates is first held up to ridicule by Aristophanes, (the 
Foote of Athens,) and then condemned to death by his fel- 
low-citizens, for teaching what our modern deists would 
persuade us the light of nature teaches every man. Some 
of the heathens, indeed, were less addicted to vice than 
others ; but the best of them were very wicked, and the 
worst were bad beyond all description. Thousands of gla- 
diators were slain in their public shows ; and they also be- 
held with pleasure their fellow-creatures engaged in com- 
bat with lions and tigers, to make them sport, though it 
was done always at the extreme hazard, and frequently 
with the loss of their lives. Time, indeed, would fail me 
were I to enumerate one half of the crimes commonly 
practised by those who, either through their own impiety, 
or that of their ancestors, had lost the knowledge of the 
true God. 

Infidels very frequently, and very ignorantly, ask— 
What is the difference whether we worship the supreme 
Being under the name of Jupiter or Jehovah, or any 
other appellation which different ages and nations may 
have thought fit to adopt ? They seem not to know that the 
Gentiles attributed such characters to their gods, and wor- 
shipped them wdth such rites, as are shocking to humani- 
ty. By some the grossest obscenities were practised ; 
others, devesting themselves of that tenderness which the 
brute creation show to their young, sacrificed their chiU 
dren to Saturn, inclosing them in a brazen statue, and caus- 
ing them to perish in the midst of the fire. They who 
prefer, or even equal any other religion to Christianity, 
either betray their own ignorance, or manifest that Satan 
has filled their minds with so much malevolence against 
its author, who is love itself, that they quarrel with the 
sunshine, and take pains to shut out the light. 

The religion of Jesus Christ contains the most excel- 



120 



lent system of morality that ever appeared. Where it has 
had its due influence on the minds of men, it has caused 
them to be a blessing to every society and family to which 
they belonged : and, through the providence of God, in 
those countries which are called Christian, the very fear 
that after all it might prove true has been such a restraint 
upon the inhabitants, that they have dreaded to run into 
those excesses they would have otherwise committed : so 
that Christianity, in every view of it, has been greatly in- 
strumental in both the civilization and reformation of man- 
kind. And I am persuaded that mere nominal Christians 
would not suffer by an impartial comparison with pagans 
and Mahometans ; those of them perhaps excepted who 
have made a trade of religion, and have used it as a step- 
pingstone to wealth and power. These are the men who 
are chiefly answerable for all the cruelties and murders 
which have been perpetrated in the name of the Prince of 
Peace, and (as they w-ould insinuate) in support of his au- 
thority. The scandalous lives of such persons have been 
a bar to the reformation of mankind, and the principal 
medium by which infidels have thrown an odium upon our 
most excellent religion. 

I quite approve of the arguments made use of by my 
niece against Mr. Lawn He could say very little in behalf 
of his national church : and indeed where truth is not on 
our side, our arguments naturally move on very slowly, 
But I dare say he will console himself with the considera- 
tion, that his income has not been lessened by any thing 
which has been said. Thai gentleman, speaking to me 
once about my being a dissenter, remarked, that if he were 
in France he should choose to conform to the national re- 
ligion : for undoubtedly, added he, the church of Rome is 
the mother church. 1 must not, however, omit, that he said 
he did not approve of transubstantiation, and a few other 
things. Indeed it is my opinion that if popery were to be 
established by act of parliament, the great majority of 
both priests and people would go back very tractably tc 
Rome : for those who have been brought to bow toward 



the east, and at the name of Jesus ; to kneel before what 
is called the altar ; and to suppose that days set apart by 
fallible men are holy on that account ; might with little 
trouble be made very good catholics. 

I have reserved to the last the consideration of Mr. 
Barnwell's intended marriage, because I thought it possi- 
ble that I might otherwise fill my paper with that disa- 
greeable subject. Such unnatural marriages are general- 
ly unhappy. He cannot suppose that Miss Pink would 
have him if she had a fortune. It cannot be doubted that 
her views are mercenary. But it will be in vain for my 
niece to say any thing to her father : he will not bear con- 
tradiction. I fear she will have but little comfort at home 
after her father is married. It is evident he only wants her 
to be married, in order that his house may be more at li- 
berty to receive his new wife. Well, she will be welcome 
to live with me. The little I have left, with economy and 
a thankful heart, is sufficient to make us very comfortable. 
Instead of thinking with dissatisfaction, that there are 
others in more exalted stations, it becomes us to consider 
how many millions there are in a much worse condition 
than ourselves. Numberless are the calamities from 
which, through the kind providence of God, we are ex- 
empted. How many do we see with emaciated consti- 
tutions, or in want of the necessaries of life, or blind, or 
lame ! Sometimes a variety of evils afflict the same person. 
How many also in affluent circumstances are suffering 
from drunken, cruel, or unchaste husbands ; or from equal- 
ly bad wives ; or undutiful children ; or from their own 
ignorance of God, and of eternal life by Jesus Christ, 
which, though they feel it not, is worse than all the other 
calamities put together 1 As Christians, therefore, we ne- 
ver can be in such circumstances in this world as to have 
reason to complain. 

With regard to you, my dear child, I advise you to do 
as you intend. I have no doubt but your father will be ex- 
ceedingly exasperated : it becomes us, however, at all 
times, to do that which is right, and to leave the event 

L 



122 



with God. If I can be of any assistance to you, nothing 
shall be wanting that I can perform. It is not impossible 
that you may be utterly rejected and abandoned by your 
parent : in such case you are welcome to partake with me 
of my pittance. Remember, my dear friend, how many 
thousands have suffered the loss of their goods, of their 
liberty, and even of their lives, rather than make ship- 
wreck of faith and a good conscience. 

I shall direct this letter to you ; but my dear niece must 
consider it as equally intended for her. My prayers are 
eontinualiy offered up for you both, that the Shepherd of 
Israel may watch over you for good. 

I am, my dear young friend, 
Yours very sincerely, 

MARY WORTHINGTON, 



LETTER XIX. 

From Miss Eusebia Neville to Mrs. Worthington* 

DEAR MADAM, 

My father sent a single horse chair for me three days 
beiore the time appointed for' my return. This alarmed 
me, and not without reason. The time, however, I have 
long wished for is at length arrived : and although I am in 
much trouble, yet I have reason to bless God who comiort- 
eth me in all my affliction ; and I have reason to say, with 
all the children of God who have suffered in his cause, 
that as the sufferings of Christ abound in me, so my con- 
solation also aboundeth by Christ. The Christian may 
rest assured, that there is an infinite difference between 
being corrected for his faults, and his suffering for a good 
conscience. Alas, what are all the reproaches and revil- 
ings of his feUow-mortals, to one who is rejoicing in God 
through our Lord Jesus Christ? Such a one is a brazed 



123 



wall, upon which the artillery of hell can make very little 
impression. I now know, my dear friend, experimentally 
what caused Paul and Silas to sing praises to God at mid- 
night, while their feet were fastened in the stocks. It is 
true 1 have not literally been used like these holy men ; 
but my name is cast out as evil, and I am looked upon as 
more vile than the reptile that crawls on the earth ; and by 
those too whom I affectionately loved, mid whom I still 
love, and pray for daily and hourly. 

When I arrived in the court, I saw my father look 
through the window. Always before, if I had been out 
but for a day, he would hasten to meet me, with a trans- 
port of joy ; but now no person came, though I stayed 
sometime taking my things out of the chaise. I foreboded 
the reason, yet couid not conceive how it could be known 
that I was a protestant, except Mr. Barnwell had sent my 
father a letter, which I now began to think must have been 
the case. I trembled from head to foot, and with difficulty 
reached the parlour. I sat down ; but nobody was there, 
which astonished me beyond measure. 

You must know, Madam, that copies of my letters to 
you and Miss Barnwell, together with your letters to me, 
were bundled together, and hidden in the drawer of an old 
table which stood in the lumber-garret. My father, ac- 
companied by signior Albino, entered the parlour with this 
bundle in his hand. I saw wrath in his countenance ; and 
human nature, unable to sustain the shock, sank beneath 
the impending stroke. , I attempted to get up : that is all 
I remember. One of the servants tells me that I fell all 
along on the floor ; and indeed my face is much bruised, 
as well as my arms and one of my elbows. 

If I had thus gone out of the world, how easy had been 
the passage I Those words of our Lord have occurred to 
my mind with much pleasure, Whosoever liveth and be- 
litveth in me shall never dl . The separation of soul and 
body is not worthy the name of death. The children of 
God cease to breathe ; but they do not cease to live. Life \ 
what is it ! The favour of God. And death ? It is his 
displeasure. That death is terrible indeed J 



124 



Father Albino attempted to bleed me, but 111 vain. He 
gave it as his opinion that I was dead. My dear parent 
shed floods of tears, and declared that he could not survive 
me. 

The first thing I can remember is, that I looked up, and 
saw a number of people about me, some holding a bottle 
to my nose, and others rubbing me. I could not imagine 
at first where I was, or what had been the matter. The 
first face I noticed was that of my dear father, bathed in 
tears. I put out my hand, and took hold of one of his, and 
with both mine pressed it to my lips. O Madam, there 
never was such a father ! My dear child, cried he, how 
happy am I to see thee alive : all, I trust, will yet be well. 
I beg, Sir, said father Albino, you will not mention a word. 

0 my dear father, said I, still pressing his hand to my lips, 
may God bless you, and my dear sister, (I saw her weep- 
ing,) and my dear brother: then should I die in peace. 
Father Albino desired I would not talk. I again found 
myself very ill, and requested to go to bed. There, instead 
of sleeping, I reflected on the divine goodness, which had 
hitherto preserved me. I thanked God that it was known 
by my friends that I was a protestant, and earnestly prayed 
that I might not be ashamed of him or of his cause. I 
also recollected, that, in Rev. xxi. 8, the fearful are num- 
bered with the unbelieving, the abominable, and murder- 
ers. And certainly, to fear man, who can only kill the 
body, more than God, is a proof of unregeneracy. 

While I was thus meditating, I heard somebody ap- 
proach softly toward my bed. I looked up, and saw my 
sister. She kindly asked whether I found myself better. 

1 told her I was a little revived. O my dear Eusebia, said 
she, what have you done ? You have made the happiest 
family in the world the most unhappy. 

My dear Maria, answered I, my fellow-mortals may con- 
demn me ; but my God will justify me. 

What then, cried she, hastily, is it not true that you ar@ 
a heretic ? 



125 



I acknowledge, replied I, in the words of the Apostle 
Paul, that after the way which you call heresy, so worship 
I, if not the God of my fathers, yet the God and Father of 
our Lord Jesus Christ. 

And do you not remember, said she, what we have often 
declared to our dear father, that if we should ever become 
heretics, we desired no favour ? Have we not assured him, 
that we should consider our guilt to be as great as that of 
Cain, and that we should expect an equal punishment ? 

I can only say, my dear sister, replied I, that it is a vain 
thing for worms like us to say what they will do, or what 
they will be. I then spake sincerely : and I should have 
acted very imprudently, when I embraced my present sen- 
timents, if 1 had not been prepared to suffer, as well as to 
do the whole will of God. 

So then, cried she tauntingly, it seems you are deter- 
mined to go on with your show. 

I am determined, with God's assistance, answered I, to 
be obedient to him, so far as I understand his will. But if 
any person can convince me out of the Scriptures that I 
err, I trust I shall alway preserve a teachable mind. 

The Scriptures ! The Scriptures ! forsooth, cried she ; 
I find you are like all the heretics. And pray who is to 
judge of the meaning of the Scriptures ? Yourself, un- 
doubtedly. 

Nay, my dear sister, said I, I would allow you to be 
judge, if the state of your mind resembled that of the wri- 
ters of them ; and without that state of mind, no one can 
be a proper judge. 

I thought I heard something move, and turning my 
head, perceived my dear father standing just within the 
room. When he was aware that I saw him, he came for- 
ward, and said in the kindest manner, How does my dear 
angel do ? I hope she is a little better. I thanked him, 
holding out my hand to take hold of his. O my dear father, 
said I, you think me culpable ; and yet you arc kind to 
me : your goodness overcomes me. 

L2 



126 

He sat down by my bed-side, and, holding my hand, 
said, I have indeed had too much reason for it : but 1 know 
the sweetness of your disposition, my own Eusebia, and 
am persuaded that the sense you have always had of your 
duty to God, to his church, and to your parent, will be 
more than sufficient to make you return to the true reli- 
gion. It was a kind providence that your sister found 
your letters : you might otherwise have continued longer 
in your wandering from the fold of Christ, and have been 
thereby hardened in your apostacy. Many sheep have 
strayed from the right ways of God, and yet been brought 
back again. Father Albino has wept as if you had been 
his own child. The tenderness with which he loved you, 
and with which we all loved you, is inexpressible. The 
venerable man declares, that his own soul is not dearer to 
him than the souls of his three children ; but that his Eu- 
sebia was the last he should have suspected of falling into 
heresy. 

I desire no favour, Sir, replied I, if I am guilty of here- 
sy. A heretic I humbly conceive, is one who departs from 
the truth delivered by the holy Spirit through the medium 
of the apostles and prophets. I cannot be a heretic ; for I 
reject no article of divine truth. 

I have not read the letters, said my father, which have 
passed between you and your friends. But your sister and 
father Albino, who have read several of them, declare that 
you are as great a heretic as .Luther and Calvin. 

That is possible, Sir, replied I ; and yet I may be no 
heretic after all We ought not to judge according t© 
notions, which we have embraced merely because our an- 
cestors held them; but we ought to judge righteous 
judgment. It grieves me to the heart, my dear father, to 
hear you give that name to persons who stand in the divine- 
presence. To speak against the servants of Jesus, is to 
speak against him. 

My father and sister seemed astonished beyond mea- 
sure. My child, cried my father, you amaze me. I 
should as socn believe th*t Satan and all his angels were 



127 



in heaven, as those two arch-heretics. Were not those 
emissaries ot the wicked one the means of rending the 
seamless coat of Christ? And what has been the conse- 
quence ? Just what might have been expected Those 
who left the holy catholic apostolic church have received 
the just reward of their iniquity, in the divisions and sub- 
divisions into which they have been crumbling* from that 
time to this. O my love, (taking hold of my hand,) you 
need only look at the lives of those who are divided frcm 
us, in order to know what kind of reformation that of Lu- 
ther and Calvin was. 

I acknowledge, my dear father, replied I, that prctes- 
tants in general appear to be destitute of the fear of God : 
but that is no proof that all protectants are so. As to their 
being called by different names, I look upon that to be no 
evil at all, any more than that the seven churches of Asia 
were called by different names. It does not follow, be- 
cause different societies of Christians are unconnected 
with each other, that therefore the church of God is di- 
vided. If Christians adhere to divine truth, though they 
be scattered in a hundred different countries, they are all 
one in Christ Jesus : and, on the contrary, if they have 
departed from it, they are not the churches of Christ, how- 
ever they may be united. 

Churches of Christ, child ? cried my father ; there can 
be but one church of Christ. Does not the spouse in the 
Canticles say, My dove., my undefiled is but one ? And is 
not the church this one church, termed by the apostle St. 
Paul, the pillar and ground of the truth ? Now if any church 
except the holy Roman church, can lay claim to these 
characters, tell me which of the numberless sects and par- 
ties it is ? 

I bless God, and I thank you, Sir, said I, that you will 
hear your child. In answer to what you have said, I ac- 
knowledge that the church of Christ is one church, and 
that this church is called the pillar and ground of the truth. 
It is so called, because every member of it both supports 
the truth, and is built upon it. But if it be asked, whether 



12 8 



the church of Rome, of England, or of Geneva, is this 
church, I answer, None of them. If it be further asked, 
whether any particular congregation of protestant dissen- 
ters is this church, I must still answer, No. The one uni- 
versal church is composed of all the saints who are now in 
heaven, and of all the friends of Christ who are now on 
earth, wherever they are scattered, or by whatever name 
known. To suppose there is a visible church, consisting 
of a great number of congregations united under one visi- 
ble head, is the foundation of almost every error in the 
church of Rome ; and no protestant church that follows 
the church of Rome in this particular, is a church of 
Christ. 

I am amazed at your confidence, Eusebia, cried my fa- 
ther angrily : this is telling me that the church of Rome 
is not the church of Christ, although she has stood the test 
of more than seventeen hundred years, while a hundred 
sects and parties have risen up, and made a noise for a 
while, which are now sunk into oblivion. The church of 
Rome was famous, even in the time of the Apostles : her 
faith was then spoken of throughout the whole world, as 
St. Paul himself testified. You deny that the visible 
church is composed of many congregations under one vi- 
sible head. But was not this the case with the Jews un- 
der Aaron, and the high priests his successors ? And was 
it not also the same with the churches under the Apostles, 
and especially under St. Peter, the prince of the Apostles, 
and his successors the bishops of Rome ? 

With respect to the Jews, Sir, answered I, they were 
considered as one church, because in fact they were hut 
one congregation. The high priest w r as a type of Christ, 
and is so declared to have been in the epistle to the He- 
brews. As he was the head of the Jewish church, so Je- 
sus Christ is the only head of his church and people, and 
they are all brethren, and upon a level with each other. 
If there be any preferment in Christ's church, it runs 
counter to preferment in the world ; since he who is 
greatest in his kingdom has, like his divine master, no 



1 29 



other privilege than that of being servant to all the rest, 
That Peter was the prince of the Apostles, my dear f ither, 
I cannot believe, except I have some sufficient proof of it : 
and even that proof, if it could be produced, would be of 
no advantage to your cause, unless it could be also proved 
that the apostles had successors. Our Lord chose twelve 
men to be witnesses of what he did and taught, whom he 
sent into the world for that purpose ; on which account, 
as you well know, they were called Apostles. When one 
of these had become a traitor, as the Scripture had fore- 
told he would, they chose another, in obedience to the 
Scripture, to fill up his place, from those who had been 
with them from the beginning. The last person appoint- 
ed to that office was Paul : but his apostleship was not of 
men, neither by any authority which he received from 
man, but was immediately conferred upon him by Jesus 
Christ, and by God the Father, who raised him from the 
dead. It is indeed impossible to conceive how the apos- 
tles should have any successors, if we consider what they 
were commissioned to do. The Holy Spirit was to bring 
to their remembrance all that they had seen and heard, in 
order that they might bear testimony to the truth where- 
ever they went : and they were to take care that the same 
things were committed to writing, that the churches might 
have them in remembrance after their decease. Those 
very apostles, therefore, who saw Christ in the flesh, con- 
tinue to be God's ambassadors to the churches, in their 
writings, to this moment, and will be so to the end of time. 
The bishop of Rome, indeed, pretends to have the power 
of binding and loosing, of absolving from sin, and of ana- 
thematizing, in which he is imitated by many who call 
themselves protestants. But men are only justified or 
condemned now by what the apostles continue to say in 
their writings. It is thus they continue to remit and to 
retain sins ; and they have not delegated their authority 
to any one. And, indeed, my dear father, if the writings 
of those apostles who saw our Saviour personally, contain 
my sentiments, and justify my conduct, though all it'to 



ISO 



popes of Rome that ever existed should curse me, I would 
disregard it ; for I have the fullest conviction that the bi- 
shop of Rome, who has usurped the authority of God, and 
who sits in his temple as if he himself were God, is no 
other than the great head of mystical Babylon, and that it- 
is the duty of Christians to depart out of that city, which 
is devoted to everlasting destruction. 

My sister was red with fury, and said that my breath was 
pestilential, and that I deserved the most cruel of ali deaths 
for the blasphemies which I had uttered against the vicar 
of Christ. My father was moved both with grief and an- 
ger, husebia, cried he, contrary to the duty which you 
owed to me, to yourself, and, above all, to the holy church 
of Rome, you have kept company with heretics, and have 
read heretical books ; and. not having the fear of God be- 
fore your eyes, you have apostatized from the holy univer- 
sal church, and are wandering you know net whither. 
This church, however, like a true and tender mother, is 
ready to receive returning sinners ; and I have yet hope 
concerning you, that, like the prodigal who wandered from 
his father's house, you may yet he induced to bethink your- 
self, and to ask for the old paths, where is the good v. ay, 
and to walk therein, that you may find rest to your soul. 
Consider, Eusebia, consider, my child, for so I would still 
wish to call you, whither these new-fangled opinions will 
lead you. What ! Had Christ no church before the time 
of those arch-heretics Luther and Calvin ? Fy upon you, 
Eusebia ; you have sadly made shipwreck of faith and a 
good conscience, and that at a time when I thought you 
proof against any of those impostors who lie in wait to de- 
ceive the unwary. Come, child, (turning to my sister,) let 
us leave her to her own reflections, which I should imagine 
must be more severe than any thing we can say. 

You will easily believe, Madam, that I had but little 
sleep that night. Indeed I was so ill, that I did not rise 
till the afternoon of the next day. My sister was sent by 
my father several times to see how I did, and every visit 
was accompanied with some ill-natured rejection: but I 



131 

would not enter into conversation, having had sufficient ex- 
perience that what I said was not attended to. Those per* 
sons who entertain no doubt of the goodness of their 
cause, are apt to pay too little attention to the arguments of 
their opponents. 

This is the fourth day since I came from Barnwell ; and 
as I have spent the chief of my time in my study, I have 
had an opportunity of writing which I thought it would be 
inexcusable to neglect. My dear Mrs- Worthington's 
letters to me must be inclosed in those to her niece, who 
will seal them, and send them to Thomas Livingstone's, 
I was a few minutes last night at that good man's house. 
He encourages me to endure hardness, as a good soldier 
of Jesus Christ. I pray that the divine Being will enable 
me to persevere. 

Dear Madam, 

I am your sincere friend, 

And very humble servant, 
EUSEBIA NEVILLE. 



LETTER XX. 

From Mr, Charles Clifford to Miss Euszbia Neville* 

DEAR MADAM, 

X HAVE destroyed two letters which I had written to 
you ; and shouid I write this and ten more, it is possible 
I should not please myself. The sum of what I have to 
relate is this : 

When I was with you and Miss Barnwell, I did not dis- 
guise my sentiments. I had long ago imbibed prejudices 
against a religion, which, thanks be to* God, I am now con- 
vinced is worthy of him who gave me my being I know it 
is from God. I have read the New Testament, and compar- 
ed it with the Old, and have found that they have every in- 
ternal mark of being dictated by the Spirit of truth. Like 



two parts of an indenture, they exactly correspond. The 
writers breathe the same spirit, and ha\e one design, name- 
ly, the glory of God in the salvation of sinners. How un- 
wise have I been in making an estimate of a religion, so 
holy, and so well calculated to make those who receive it 
happy, from the lives of those who are destitute of its spi- 
rit, and ignorant of its design. 

Having blessed God for his mercy exercised toward me, 
permit me, dear Madam, to thank you for the goodness 
you manifested in endeavouring to bring me to a right 
mind. A divine blessing attended what you said. I have 
returned to an insulted God, whom I found to be more 
ready to give than I was to ask, and have experienced 
great peace and joy in prostrating my soul before him. 
* I entreat you to give me credit when I tell you, that I 
am no longer the same Charles Clifford I was. When 
you conversed with me, I resembled a person at sea with- 
out a compass, sailing he knows not whither. I possessed 
knowledge enough, derived from divine revelation, to ren- 
der me miserable, and therefore attempted to extinguish 
the glorious luminary from which that light proceeded. 

My father, who has been in your company since I had 
that pleasure, speaks greatly in your praise. I pray that 
what you have said to him may have a happy effect. 

I know that your friends are strict Roman catholics: 
but when I conversed with you, I was convinced that this 
was not your case : and my father has since confirmed it. 
He tells'me that it is but very lately that you have left, 
the Romish church, and that he does not know whether 
your friends are yet acquainted with it. 

I lament my folly and guilt in taking it for granted, after 
beholding the absurdities and abominations to be found in 
popish countries, especially among the clergy, that the 
Christian religion was a fable invented by legislators and 
priests. I now perceive that worldly men, under a cler- 
ical habit, not only among catholics, but among protectants 
have impiously turned a religion of divine origin into an 
instrument for awing and plundering the ignorant mui« 



133 



titude. How remote are their ostentatious places of wor- 
ship, their pompous ceremonies, and their princely digni- 
ties, from the writings and the practice of the apostles ! 
When a thinking person beholds at Rome, altars smoking 
with incense, and the pope, the cardinals, and the bishops, 
clothed in their magnificent pontificals, rioting in luxury 
and idleness, and supported by the labour of the miserable 
laity, it is scarcely possible to avoid despising and abhor- 
ring the Christian religion ; unless, indeed, the person 
who beholds those enormities be wise enough to consider, 
that there are no more Christians than there are followers 
of the faith and practice of Jesus and his humble disciples. 
To confound the religion of an antichristian clergy with 
Christianity is a fatal absurdity ; and yet how many mil- 
lions, falling into this gulf of error, sink into everlasting 
perdition ! 

My dear Miss Neville, I should add something more ; 
but my hand will scarely hold my pen. You are acquaint- 
ed with my having made proposals to Miss Barnwell, 
which she prudently rejected. I had not then conversed 
with Eusebia Neville. I do not know how to speak to her 
upon such a subject, because I fear I have not fortitude 
enough to receive a denial ; nor do I desire a union with 
her, unless it shall please God to preserve me in the faith, 
1 have too great a regard for her to wish her to be united 
to an infidel. 

I forward this from Holyhead, as I am about to embark 
for Ireland, where my stay is uncertain I hope it will not 
be long. In the meantime believe me to be, with the 
greatest regard, 

Dear Madam, 

Your sincere friend, 

And most obedient servant, 
CHARLES CLIFFORD, 



M 



134 



LETTER XXI. 

From Miss Eusebia Neville to Mrs. Worthington, 

DEAR MADAM, 

I HAVE given you an account of my conversation with 
my father and sister. Since that time my father has gone to 
London, and I do not expect him to return in less time than 
eight or ten days. When he left me, he said with a deter- 
mined tone, Eusebia, remember that, although I may bear 
long with you, my patience is not infinite. I shall leave 
this venerable man (looking toward father Albino) to be 
your spiritual director : and observe, I shall expect to see 
you reconciled to our holy church at my return ; other- 
wise, take notice, it will be at your peril. 

My dear father, replied I, to make you happy, I could 
willingly lay down my life. Then, falling on my knees, 
and taking hold of one of his hands, I earnestly besought 
him not to desire my everlasting destruction. 

Destruction ? cried he, lifting me up ; God forbid ! If 
it were not that I earnestly desire your everlasting happi- 
ness above every other consideration, I should not give my- 
self this trouble. Let common sense judge, whether all 
the learned doctors of cur church, and father Albino, not 
to mention myself, are not likely to understand things bet- 
ter than you who are a child ? Let every one move in his 
proper sphere. It is your duty and mine to believe im- 
plicitly as we are taught by our superiors : in acting thus 
we shall be safe. If we were to believe nothing but what 
is agreeable to our weak capacities, every one would have 
a creed of his own. What would then become of unifor- 
mity ; and bow could Christians be perfectly joined to- 
gether in the same mind, and in the same judgment ! 

Indeed, Sir, replied I, what you have said is not unan- 
swerable. 



135 



I will hear nothing, said he, in behalf of heresy. If you 
have any scruples, mention them to father Albino or your 
sister : but when they have answered your doubts, that 
ought to suffice. 

My father left me very unkindly. He bade me farewell 
coldly, without embracing me. I had not been used to 
such treatment. I went up to my closet and entreated the 
interposition of the Almighty. 

I know in some measure whence this unkind usage pro- 
ceeds. Father Albino is what may be called a very friend- 
ly, kind man, where religion is not concerned, and has a 
real esteem for our family ; but my being a heretic is an 
offence not to be forgiven. One of our maids, who, I be- 
lieve, really sympathizes with me in my distress, tells me 
that she repeatedly heard him say to my father, that if fair 
means would not do, severity ought to be used. How far 
God may permit them to carry that severity, is known only 
to him, but I am well persuaded, that even the wrath of 
man shall be so overruled by his providence as to contribute 
to his glory, and that the remainder of it he by his almighty 
power will restrain. O my dear friend, how happy should 
we be, if we always lived in the enjoyment of a perfect as- 
surance that our God is the sovereign of the universe ; that 
every creature, animate and inanimate, is obedient to his 
will ; and that his worst enemies have always, though un- 
intentionally, promoted his gracious designs of mercy to 
his people. 

This morning I received a letter which surprised me, 
from Mr. Charles Clifford. He endeavours to deter me 
from returning to the church of Rome, of which he has 
drawn a frightful picture, but I believe a tolerable like- 
ness. 

I have great hope that the conversation I had with him 
at Mr. Barnwell's has been a mean of convincing him of 
the truth. Time only can discover whether the seed is 
sown on good ground, or only by the way-side, or among 
thorns. He seems fearful lest he should be left to return 
to his former deism, which is a good sign. We cannot 
fcmst in ourselves too little. 



136 



I was in my study when it c^ime. My sister, therefore* 
took it in, and she and father Albino brought it up to me. 
My child, cried the father* a letter is come by the post, di- 
rected for you ; but your father charged me to let you re- 
ceive no heretical letters, unless I saw them, in order that 
I might, by my counsel, prevent any evil impressions. 

Sir, said I, it is in your possession, and you are welcome 
to keep it, as I am at a loss to know who should write to 
me. 

0 no, he said, he only desired to see it after I had read 
it. This I promised : but we often desire things to our 
hurt. When you have read it, Madam, you will not won- 
der that the contents enraged both him and my sister. 
This Clifford was the vilest heretic in the world, and de- 
served to be burned at a stake ; and I ought to keep him 
company. 

Indeed, my dear sister, cried I, you are opposing God. 
The apostles did not teach the religion of Jesus in this 
manner. 

You do not consider, said father Albino, that they had no 
power to enforce obedience to the laws of Christ till the 
time of the blessed emperor Constantine, when the alli- 
ance took place between the church and the state. 

That alliance, father, replied I, was injurious to the 
church. Christians might have erred in doctrine and 
practice, if there had been no religious establishment, but 
not in so great a degree as those have done, who, armed 
with the civil power, have turned the noblest panacea into 
a poison, and the greatest blessing into a curse. 

1 am of a different opinion, said he; and experience 
proves, that Christianity has never flourished where it has 
not been enforced by the sword of the magistrate. I in- 
treat you, my dear child, to return to the bosom of the 
church. We wish -to treat you in the tenderest manner. 
The church of Rome has never used severity until every 
other method has been tried without success. I find you 
have been reading that arch-heretic Fox. I appeal to 
yourself) whether the greatest lenity was not used toward 



IS? 



those stubborn apostates. If they would have renounced 
their heresies, even after they were fastened to the stake, 
their lives would have been spared. You know this to be 
true. Besides, very few comparatively were put to ti e 
torture in England. In France, and other parts of Chris- 
tendom, heretics were not treated with such lenity ; and 
we see the happy effects. 

My dear Sir, replied I, it gives me concern to see you 
and my sister bent upon your own destruction. Pray con- 
sider, that it was foretold in the Revelation, that an anti- 
christian church would arise in the world under the Chris- 
tian name, and that he who presided in it would usurp the 
divine authority, and act as if he were God. This church 
is represented as riding upon a scarlet-coloured beast, full 
of names of blasphemy : and to pass by many other of her 
characters, such as her riches, pride, and abominations, she 
is characterised as bearing a resemblance to ancient Baby- 
lon, that terrible sco jrge to the people of God. The words 
mystery, babylon the great, were written on her fore- 
head. And, lest any one should mistake, she is described 
as drunken with the blood of the saints, and of the martyrs 
of Jesus. Now, my dear friends, let me entreat you to 
inquire whether you are not members of that society, so 
awfully described in many parts of Scripture, but espe- 
cially in the 17th and 18th chapters of the Revelation. It: 
is a debt which you owe to yourselves ; for if you should 
neglect my advice, and perish with that miserable compa- 
ny, it will be but a small alleviation of your misery to 
^ay, that you could never have thought it. 

Poor wretch ! cried my sister, dost thou imagine that 
.thou canst instruct father Albino ? .* . 

My dear child, said he, we have charitably endeavoured 
to instruct this poor conceited girl, who, if you will believe 
her, understands things better than you or I, or indeed the 
greatest doctors in our church. If you had one dram of 
humility left, (addressing me) you would submit to be 
instructed by those who are much your superiors in know- 
ledge of every kind, 

M % 



133 



I held my peace, perceiving that what I said was disre- 
garded. 1 am not anxious to know how these things will 
terminate, but commit myself to the protection of my hea- 
venly Parent, who is able to do for me more than I can ask 
or think. 

Miss Barnwell is now with me in my study. She has 
brought the melancholy news of her father's being marri- 
ed this morning to Miss Pink. As soon as the ceremony 
was performed, Mr. Barnwell and his wife, and Mr. Pink 
and his two other daughters, set off on a visit to Mr. 
Pink's brother, an attorney, who lives about twenty miles 
distant. My dear Miranda tells me she was asked very 
coldly to accompany them, which she declined, by telling* 
her father, if he was willing, she would go to Thornton, 
to which he readily consented. She did not know that my 
father was from home, and only intended to go to our 
friend Livingstone's to inquire after me ; but my sister ac- 
cidentally met her as she was entering the village, and 
good manners supplied the place of affection, and procur- 
ed me the pleasure of my friend's company. 

Miss Barnwell, Madam, has had no heart to write to 
you lately. She could only make you sorrowful by her 
complaints. Her father scarcely ever speaks peaceably to 
her. He tells her he shall never forgive her refusal of 
Mr. Clifford ; that if he should have a young family, he 
will have very little to give her ; and if he had, that he 
would never bestow it on a presbyterian parson, and no 
other husband, he supposes, will please her. A continual 
round of reflections of this kind is her daily portion, which 
makes her long, she says, to arrive at those happy regions, 
Where God will wipe the tears from the eyes of his people* 

I showed my dear friend the letter sent to me by Mtv 
Clifford, and told her I thought it very unhappy that she 
had given him such a positive denial, as I entertained fa- 
vourable hopes of his becoming a Christian. I am not 
sorry, replied she. I did what was my duty at that time, 
and in those circumstances. My God has the direction of 
all events ; and I am certain that I shall not be a sufferer 



139 

for doing that which I knew to be his will. And with re- 
gard to you, my dear friend, I would advise you not to 
venture upon that gentleman, until you shall have satisfac- 
tory proof of his being a servant of God. If that should 
ever be the happy case, I entreat you not to refuse him on 
my account. I replied, that I hoped no consideration 
would induce me to accept of any person for a-husband, 
who I had the least reason to think was not a Christian. 

I cannot add any thing more, except that your niece de- 
sires her duty to you, and that I continue, dear Madam, 
Your sincere friend, 

And very humble servant, 

EUSEBIA NEVILLE. 



LETTER XXII. 

From Miss Miranda Barnwell to Mrs, Worthinglon. 

MY DEAR AUNT, 

EN we consider the troubles and disquietudes of 
life, what reason we have to bless our God and Father, 
that he has made our days but as a hand-breadth, and that 
our continuance in this porch of our existence is compara- 
tively as nothing before him. With regard to myself, my 
happiness would have almost vanished, had it not been that 
I can go to a throne of grace, and, through the mediation 
of my Saviour, receive those inestimable blessings, peace 
of conscience, contentment with my lot, and an assurance 
that I shall be safely conducted to the regions of immor- 
tality. 

Eusebia has informed you, Madam, that my father is 
married, and that I have been at the Abbey. 

Miss Neville and father Albino behaved with civility to 
me the few hours I was there, and even desired me to 
stay, but as I had seen my clear friend, I thought it best 
not to give any unnecessary offence to her father, who will, 
undoubtedly, be informed of my having been there, 



140 



I saw Thomas and his wife, who are well, and desire 
their respects to their benefactress. They reside in a 
neat little thatched cottage with two rooms on a floor. I 
do not think I ever saw any persons equally happy. They 
live chiefly on barley bread and milk ; which, where there 
is a good appetite, and a stomach undepraved by luxury, 
is an excellent food. I liked their house better than our 
own. A dwelling which has twenty times more room than 
we can occupy, seems to me to be of no more use than a 
grave twenty times too large for our coffin : nay, I think a 
great house a great evil ; because, like every other advan- 
tage, real or imaginary, it is apt to produce pride, and to 
make us think of ourselves above what we ought to think. 
My station is likely to be very low in this life ; but if my 
God bring my mind to a level with my condition, it is all 
that I desire. I trust he is daily teaching me not to envy 
the prosperous state of the wicked, nor to imagine that 
any are happy but those who are interested in his favour. 

We have had many visitors to congratulate my father 
and Mrs. Barnwell on their marriage. How often have I 
-wished to be with our friend Thomas and his wife. My 
habitual silence will, I suppose, be imputed to discontent 
But, in fact, the conversation is generally upon such sub- 
jects as are either idle and uninteresting, or sinful. 

Miss Louisa Pink is a great talker; and religion now 
and then comes in for some of her remarks. I find that 
she and my mother and Mr. Pink are Socinians, or (as 
they call themselves) Unitarians. When we v/ere at tea 
this afternoon, I hope, Miss Barnwell, said she, you are not 
one of those wrong-headed people, who insist upon it that 
three are one, and that one is three. 

The flighty manner in which she said this and other 
things, made me reply, that such important subjects de- 
served to be treated with a greater degree of seriousness. 
I added, that it was my desire to maintain those doctrines 
only which had been maintained by the prophets and apos- 
tles. 

Undoubtedly, said Mr. Pink, religious subjects, when- 



141 



ever they are introduced, ought to be treated with serious- 
ness. But 1 think, Miss Barnwell, your good sense will 
not admit the notion of a plurality of Gods. 

You quite mistake the matter, Sir, interrupted my fa- 
ther ; when any one commences a profession of religion, 
he discards good sense, and even common sense : the 
greater the absurdity the more meritorious the faith. This 
girl of mine, before she associated with Presbyterians, was 
inferior to no one in good senss : but now, for a week to- 
gether, I do not hear her say an agreeable or sensible 
thing. 

There is enough, Sir, replied Mr. Pink, in the church 
of England, to find fault with ; and Miss Barnwell, I doubt 
not, is able to assign sufficient reasons for her dissent- As 
to myself, if there were a dissenting minister of my sen* 
timents in the neighbourhood, I would not go to hear such 
a farrago of inconsistencies as the Common Prayer. And 
I think it a great hardship on the clergy, to be obliged to 
swear that they give their assent and consent to every thing 
contained in that book : it is to require perjury from the 
teachers ol a divine morality, of which perjury their con- 
science must accuse them every time they read it. It is 
true, I go to church ; but I never join in those parts of 
the worship which I think blasphemous. 

Indeed, Sir, answered my father, you are more curi- 
ous than I am. I never gave myself any concern about it ; 
and I dare say ninety-nine out of a hundred of the clergy 
know as little, and think as little about the matter as I do, 

Some conscientious men, Sir, said Mr. Pink, have re- 
signed their preferments in the church, because they 
would not wound their consciences by reading the Athana- 
sian and Nicene creeds, and many absurd passages in va- 
rious parts of the service. 

I firmly believe, cried my father, that the great body of 
them regard these things no more than I do : and it is well 
they do not ; for how could they help themselves ? The 
church was as much intended to be a decent provision for 
the younger branches of the nobility, and gentry, as the 



im 

army and navy. They consider it simply in that light : 
and if they were commanded to swear before induction? 
that they believed the tale of Bel and the Dragon, they 
would not scruple to do it. As long, however, as Sunday 
is set apart by the state to give a little rest to servants and 
horses, I would have every one go to his parish church 
it would prevent a great deal of drunkenness, as well as 
hedge-breaking and poaching. 

I thought, Sir, said Mr. Pink, that I was not above half 
a churchman ; but you seem to have a worse opinion of 
the clergy than I have. 

By no means, replied my father ; they are as honest and 
learned a body as any in Europe : but they are men ; and 
why should we expect them to possess a nature different 
from our own ? If I had been educated for the church, do 
you think any one should have invented a creed that would 
have kept me out of it ? Indeed he should not : and the 
clergy in general are of my mind. The sin lies at the 
door of those who impose creeds and subscriptions, as I 
have frequently heard the clergy observe. They are not 
blameabic who are obliged to subscribe them ; I say, ob- 
liged to subscribe them ; for if eating and drinking be ne- 
cessary, subscription is necessary also. 

Surely, Sir, said Mr. Pink, you forget that in the be- 
ginning of the reign of Charles II. more than two thou- 
sand ministers, rather than declare upon oath their assent 
and consent to every thing contained in the new service- 
book, left the church. Indeed, a great number of them, 
before they had an opportunity of seeing it, were compel- 
led either to take the oath I have mentioned, or to resign 
their benefices. They chose to do the latter, which proves 
that there have been conscientious men among the clergy. 

If, Sir, replied my father, none could have been found 
to supply their place, there would have been more force 
in your argument But how many do you suppose could 
be persuaded to give up their livings now ? Instead of two 
thousand, I dare say not two of a thousand. The clergy 
now, like other people, attend to the main chance ; and 



143 



they are in the light. Their education gives them the 
rank of gentlemen : and ought it to be expected that they 
should give up every thing and become beggars ? 

And pray, Miss Barnwell, cried Mr, Pink, do you think 
they act rightly in subscribing what they do not believe ? 

Yes, Sir, replied I, if Christianity is only a fable, in- 
vented by legislators and priests for the benefit of the 
younger branches of the nobility and gentry, w T hich seems 
to be taken for granted. I acknowledge that there is such 
a kind of Christianity, which, with its teachers and hear- 
ers, has not been badly described. 

If you, Madam, said Mr. Pink, had given such a de- 
scription of the clergy, I should not have wondered : but 
that Mr. Barnwell, who is so zealous a churchman, should 
entertain no better an opinion of them, surprises me not a 
little. N 

Notwithstanding, Sir, replied I, my sentiments are in 
favour of a dissent from the church of England, and in- 
deed from every other established church, yet I have a 
better opinion of a considerable part of her clergy than my 
father seems to have. I think that many of them enter- 
tain no doubt concerning the truth of what they have sub- 
scribed ; and that many of the rest sigh and groan in se- 
cret, because they are obliged continually to countenance 
doctrines which they suppose to be false. 

That is very true, Madam, said Mr Pink. Really, Mr. 
Barnwell, continued he, your daughter understands these 
things well, I assure you. 

I wish, replied my father, she understood obedience to 
her parent. Let her learn that in the first place. But I 
am sorry to say that this makes no part of her religion.— 
Thus ended the converse tion. 

The want of respect from churchmen towards the cler- 
gy results from the very nature of a religious establish- 
ment. Those two grand bonds of affection are wanting, 
Free Choice, and Voluntary Support. I he primitive Ch ris- 
tians chose their pastors, (which practice continued during 
the three first centuries.) and voluntarily ministered to 



144 



them in temporal things. In the apostolic age there was 
no priestly domination ; hut the preachers were gentle 
among their fellow Christians, even as a nurse cherisheth 
her children. Their hearers were in their hearts, and 
they were ready to die and live with them ; and they re- 
ceived from their hearers a return of affection. Can such 
mutual love be expected where the preachers are appoint- 
ed by law, and paid out of the labours of the people with- 
out asking their consent ? Ought we to wonder that the 
hireling, in general, careth not for the flock, and that the 
flock careth as little for the hireling ? 

There is a company of strolling players at Warhamp- 
ton. My father and mother agreed, while they were at 
breakfast, to go to the play, this being the first night. She 
used many arguments to induce me to accompany them, 
and among other things said, that as much might be learn- 
ed from a good play as from a sermon. I replied, that 
some sermons were written by the same persons who wrote 
plays, and that consequently the latter were likely to be as 
good as the former. 

And what disparagement, said she, is that to them ? 

I replied that plays were unfriendly to the cause of mo- 
rality. 

The abuse of a thing, said she, is no argument against 
its use. A well-regulated theatre is a great benefit to a 
country. Why may there not be moral plays, as well as 
immoral ? The book of Job is a dramatic poem, founded 
upon facts, as many of our plays are. 

A well-regulated theatre, Madanl, answered I, would 
soon be deserted. The licentious taste, therefore, of those 
who frequent the playhouse is consulted by the managers, 
and by the writers of plays. If four or five persons were 
to repeat, on the stage, the book of Job, I question if the 
audience would not grow riotous, and break up the ben- 
ches, before they had gone through half a dozen chapters. 

Well, said she, I shall go : I see no damage in it: and 
I would have you go too : for no advantage arises from be- 
ing over precise. Besides, all the genteel people in the 
npiV^bourhood will be there to-night. 



145 



It may be so, Madam, replied I : but I hope I shall 
never deliberately go to a play ; nor indeed any where 
else, except I am first persuaded that the Son of God 
would go thither if he were upon earth. 

Well, Louisa, said my mother, (looking at her sister, 
and laughing,) we may venture to go. Miss Barnwell has 
religion enough for herself and us too. 

This is the ground I myself have trodden ; and I should 
still have walked in the same path, if God in sovereign 
mercy had not prevented it. What reason have his ser- 
vants to adore his distinguishing favour, in saving and cal- 
ling them with a holy calling, not according to their works, 
but according to his own purpose and grace given them in 
Christ Jesus before the world began. I can only adH that 
I am, Dear Madam, 

Your dutiful and 

Affectionate niece, 

MIRANDA BARNWELL. 



LETTER XXIIL 

From Mrs. Worthington to Miss BamwelL 

MY DEAR NIECE, 

I H WE read your letter with pleasure. Your situation, 
my dear child, though disagreeable, is not a bad one upon 
the whole. That cannot be injurious to us which causes 
us frequently to repair to a throne of grace. Affliction is 
as necessary for us in the present life, as rainy and frosty 
weather are necessary to fertilize the earth. As your af- 
flictions lead to God, you may infer that they come from 
him in a way of love. Their nature and measure, there- 
fore, will be properly adjusted; and as your day is, such 
also will be your strength. 

It is a delightful night. I have been viewing the stars. 
I cannot without transport behold this profusion of iumi- 

N 



146 



naries, few of which are less than the sun that enlightens 
our earth and its kindred planets. How great that Being 
who created those luminaries, and who placed them at 
such a stupendous distance from us, and from each other ! 
It is He who bringeth forth Mazzaroth in his season : it is 
He who guid-eth Arcturus with his sons. Amid such great 
affairs, are not our trifling concerns overlooked ? No, the 
hairs of our head are numbered ; and we are as much the 
objects of the care of our infinitely wise, august, and be- 
neficent Creator, as if he had brought us alone into exis- 
tence. He marked out the bounds of our habitation before 
we came into being ; and he has promised that he will 
never leave us, nor forsake us. What then should hinder 
us from being calm and serene in every situation, and in 
every condition of life ? 

Mr. C. Clifford's letter gives me great hope concern- 
ing him. Poor young man ! he comes out of as irreli- 
gious a family as any in the kingdom. 1 once heard his 
father boast that he had not been in a place of worship du- 
ring the last twenty years. But as in the house of Jerobo- 
am there was an Abijah, in whom was found some good 
thing toward the Lord God of Israel ; so, in the present 
day, God sometimes takes his servants out of the families 
of his avowed enemies. 

I wish our dear Eusebia not to refuse this .gentleman, if 
he shall appear to be a sincere Christian. This can only 
be known by his continuing in the doctrine which is ac- 
cording to godliness, and by his bearing such fruit as is 
produced by those vines which are of God's planting. It 
affords me pleasure to view the gracious providence of our 
heavenly Father, who appears to me to be raising him up 
for a blessing to my friend 

Does there not appear to you in Mr. Clifford's letter an 
internal proof of his sincerity ? I seem to myself to have 
such a kind of certainty of it, as Delilah had of the sincer- 
ity of Samson when he showed her all his heart. 

I have been thinking of the difference between a true 
Christian and a hypocrite. A hypocrite is a religious 



147 

professor destitute of the love of God, and of the spirit of 
Christ, and who has no love to the truth. He frequently 
deceives the servants of God ; those who are of the truth : 
but most of all he deceives himself. Christians frequently 
have doubts concerning him : that, however, is not always 
the case. Judas had art enough not to be detected for a 
considerable time. But as a worldly spirit entirely ac- 
tuates every hypocrite, that spirit, however he may curb 
it to render himself agreeable to these with whom he 
associates, will constantly influence him. Because he en- 
deavours to disguise his motives, and to appear what he is 
not, he is called a hypocrite ; that is, an actor or player, 
whose employment is to appear in the character of others, 
and not in his own. Great wisdom is required to enable 
us to judge of our own sincerity, and of the hypocrisy of 
others ; since, in this imperfect state, a Christian is not 
entirely destitute of hypocrisy, nor a hypocrite of every 
kind of sincerity. In worldly matters, our own interest 
demands that we be sincere. A hypocrite, therefore, if 
he be a prudent man, will, in general, be sincere in his 
-dealings ; and a Turk or a Jew will be the same. On the 
other hand, an imprudent Christian may, through remain- 
ing ignorance and temptation, be warped from sincerity in 
worldly things ; but he will suffer severely for it. In this 
seems to lie the great difference between the one and the 
other. The Christian is sincere in his love to God, to his 
law, to his pure gospel, and to sincerity, justice, mercy, and 
righteousness of every kind. He shudders at the thought 
of being drawn aside from any of these things, and abhors 
himself in dust and ashes when he is convinced that this 
has been the case. Peter wept bitterly when he reflected 
how deceitfully and unkindly he had behaved respecting 
his Lord : and we may infer that the same apostle suffer- 
ed considerable compunction on account of the insincerity 
and dissimulation for which Paul so kindly and so faith- 
fully reproved him. On the contrary, the hypocrite, or 
the religious professor destitute of the spirit of Christ, 
cannot love God as his character is drawn in the Scrip- 



i48 



tures. He may love a God ; but it is the idol of his own 
imagination. In like manner, if he love the gospel, it is a 
corrupted gospel ; for not being actuated by the Spirit of 
Christ, which ieads to an entire dependence on Christ, he 
is necessarily influenced by a spirit of self-dependence. 
This is the case with every unregenerate man. Nor does 
he love the law of God, because it is a transcript of the 
divine mind, infinitely excellent in itself, and agreeable to 
his own renewed nature ; but he yields an unwilling and 
very partial obedience to it, because he loves himself, and 
is willing to compound matters with his Maker, and to 
give him the tithe of mint, anise and cummin. He is 
willing to sacrifice the blind and lame of his flock, provi- 
ded he may be permitted to gratify his pride, his covet- 
ousness, or his ambition. In a word, he loves the gospel 
for no other reason than because, through his mistaken 
view of it, he can sin without remorse ; and the law, no 
further than he thinks that obedience to it secures him 
against future punishment. 

How vain and silly were the arguments of Mrs. Barn- 
well in behalf of stage entertainments. No arguments 
against them need to be addressed to the servants of God ; 
for he effectually teaches his children to abhor such prin- 
ciples, and such practices. 

I intended to write also to our friend ; but upon peru- 
sing the above, I perceive that what I have said to you is 
equally proper to be said to her. I request you, therefore, 
when 'you have read it, to send it in a cover to Thomas 
Livingstone, to whom, as also to his wife, I desire my 
kind respects 

I am, my dear niece, 

Your most affectionate aunt, 

MARY WORTH1NGTON 



149 



LETTER XXIV. 

From Miss Barnwell to Mrs, Worthington. 

MY DEAR AUNT) 

I HAVE been to visit Mrs. Law. She was at our house 
last week, and made me promise to come to see her, for 
that she had something of importance to say to me. I 
suspected that she wanted me to return to the church ; 
nor was I mistaken. 

Mrs. Law, as you well know, was the daughter of an 
independent minister. She is of a mild and affable dispo- 
sition, and is very religious. I believe that what she did 
was by Mr. Law's desire ; for he cannot bear the thought 
that any of his parishioners should go to meeting. 

Mrs. Law began with saying, that she was exceedingly 
sorry to see my place at church empty ; that she believed 
me to be a well-disposed young lady ; and that such ought 
to stay in the church to benefit others by their example. 
I, continued she, who was brought up a dissenter, am per- 
suaded that there is nothing in the church of England but 
what the pious and well-disposed may conscientiously sub- 
mit to, and that in some things the church is even supe- 
rior to the meeting. For instance : dissenting ministers 
are dependant on their hearers for their stipend, poor as it 
generally is. This is a smre, and tends to warp their 
judgment, and to make them preach such doctrine as they 
know will be agreeable to their hearers. Besides, it is 
really degrading to, and beneath a man who has received 
a liberal education, and is indeed a gentleman, at least in 
that respect, to live on the alms of his hearers ; for I can 
call their contributions by no better a name. I have heard 
my father regret that the terms of communion in the 
church of Fngland were such as he could not conscien- 
tiously submit to as a minister. But this obstacle does 

N 2 



150 



not lie in the way of private Christians ; for they are not 
called to subscribe to any thing. 

There are many dissenters, Madam, replied I, who 
think with your father that it would be possible to form 
a national church upon a Scriptural plan : but i must dis- 
sent from those disenters. The apostolical churches were 
assemblies of Christians, separated from the world, and 
maintaining no religious connexion with it They were 
not of the world, even as their Lord and Master was not 
of the world. And if any unbelievers crept in among 
them, they w r ere commanded to purge out the old leaven, 
that they might be a new lump. Churches, therefore, in- 
stead of being national, ought to consist of the servants of 
God, selected out of a nation. 

Mrs. Law But if the chief magistrate be a Christian, 
ought he not to provide able and religious ministers ? 

Mir. What kind of ministers, Madam, ought he to 
provide, if he be a Roman Catholic ? What kind will he 
then be likely to provide ; or though a protestant, if he be 
merely a nominal Christian ? Or what kind is likely to be 
provided by that description of men to whom the right of 
presentation to church livings in general belongs ? 

Mrs. Law. If the maintenance of the clergy depended 
upon voluntary subscription, many would sooner part with 
their Christianity than with their money. It is the opinion 
of some wise men, that if the interference of government 
in religious matters were to cease, the Christian religion 
would be lost, and paganism would again prevail. 

Mir. Did not the Christian religion extend itself in 
three hundred years over the Roman empire, so that the 
pagan priests complained that their temples were deserted, 
and that there were none to purchase sacrifices ? Is not 
God still able to protect his own cause ? Has he not in 
every age of the church sent faithful labourers to gather 
in his harvest ? 

Mrs. Law. Your objection to the interference of the 
magistrate in religious matters, appears to me to hold 
good, only provided he be a Roman catholic, or merely a 



151 

nominal Christian. But provided he be a protestant, and 
a real Christian, may he not then interfere ? 
Mir. In what manner ? 

Mrs. Law. By appointing and supporting Christian mi- 
nisters. 

Mir. Of what denomination ? 

Mrs. Law. Of his own, certainly. 

Mir. And what shall we suppose that to be ? 

Mrs, Law. You know what denomination of Christians 
is established in England. 

Mir. You do not mean to say, Madam, that a person 
cannot be a Christian, unless he be a member of the En- 
glish religious establishment ? 

Mrs. Law Certainly not. 

Mir. Suppose then the supreme magistrate to be a Bap- 
tist, what kind of ministers ought he in that case to ap- 
point ? 

Mrs. Law. I have not sufficiently considered the subject 
to be able to answer you. 

Mir. Then, Madam, permit me to answer the question 
myself. I think that a Baptist king ought not to choose 
ministers for Episcopalian, or Independent, or Presbyte- 
rian churches ) and I am confident that a Baptist church 
would not acknowledge for its minibter a person set over 
them by even a Baptist king. 

Mrs. Law. Suppose he leave all congregations to choose 
their owft ministers, may he not establish his own denomi- 
nation ? 

Mir. In what way ? 

Mrs. Law. By the payment of their ministers out of the 
public revenue. 

Mir. Observe, Madam, we are still supposing the su- 
preme magistrate to be a Baptist. You must therefore 
suppose the Baptists to be the established sect. But would 
it not be very hard for all other denominations to maintain 
their own ministers and Baptist ministers likewise ? And 
would it not be very ungenerous and unchristian for Bap- 
tist ministers and congregations to suffer themselves to be 
thus exalted and favoured above their brethren. 



152 



Mrs. Law. Is not this objection removed by the con- 
sideration that the established religion is the religion of 
the majority. 

Mir. A great majority of the people of England go to 
no place of worship at all : therefore it cannot be said 
that the established religion is the religion of the majority. 
But if it were, it ought not to claim any thing more than 
an equal and impartial protection of its professors in their 
civil and religious rights 1 do not see how religious es- 
tablishments can be defended upon any principle whatever. 
If the religion of the magistrate must be established, then 
error and even infidelity may chance to be established. If 
the religion of the majority must be established, then 
popery may require to be established, and that even by a 
protestant king. 

Mrs. Law. Suppose one sect of Christians to excel all 
others in doctrine, discipline, and practice, ought we not 
to wish that to.be established ? 

Mir. Such a sect, Madam, would not consent to receive 
temporal benefits at the expense of its brethren. How- 
ever, if it did, they would be of no use to it. Religion is 
of such a nature, that it will not bear to be breathed upon 
by the state : the breath of the state always pollutes it. It 
is a plant which flourishes more in the shade of poverty 
and obscurity, than in the sunshine of worldly prosperity. 
A good king cannot render religion greater service than 
an equally pious poor man renders it Worldly power, 
worldly honour, and worldly riches, enervate, enfeeble, and 
corrupt it. 

Mrs. Law. If the church of England be excellent in 
itself, I do not see what injury it can sustain from being es- 
tablished by law. 

Mir. I disapprove of the church of England on many 
other accounts, such as her constitution, her discipline, her 
offi ers, the doctrines generally preached in her, her cere- 
monies, her set forms of prayer, her fasts and festivals, and 
other things : but if all these things, and every thing else 
in her were unexceptionable, yet, being imposed on all her 



15& 



members by the authority of the civil magistrate, I cannot 
become a member of her without violating that allegiance 
which I owe to Jesus Christ as the only king and law-giver 
of his church, Besides, if there be any thing in the 
church of England which is scriptural, and which yet is 
not to be found among dissenters, it is in the power of their 
churches to adopt it. If they can find archbishops and 
lordbishops, deans and sub-deans, archdeacons and preben- 
daries, canons and minor canons, in the New Testament, 
dissenting churches may have them if they please, and 
may appoint men who fear God to those offices, which is 
not so likely to be the case when they are appointed by the 
state. 

Mrs. Law. Is not our liturgy excellent ? 

Mir. I disapprove of the reading of prayers. The litur- 
gy contains many excellent things : it would however, have 
been more free from faults, if the old popish prayer book 
had been less closely adhered to But if it were more ex- 
cellent than it is, it is in the power of our churches to 
adopt it, or they can adopt its excellencies and leave behind 
its imperfections. We read nothing, however, concerning 
forms of prayer, in the New Testament ; and I believe 
they did not come into use till Christianity was greatly cor- 
rupted, and till the spirit of prayer had declined in its mi- 
nisters. 

Mrs. Law. What do you think of our ceremonies? 

Mir. If there be any thing valuable in them, our church- 
es have it in their power to adopt it. But they can find 
neither precept nor example in the word of God for bow- 
ing toward the east, for signing with the cross in baptism, 
for the baptizing of bells, for sprinkling holy water, and for 
the other ceremonies of the churches of England and 
Rome. They esteem it their duty to obey the command- 
ments of God ; but they dare not introduce will-worship, 
into religion, nor become subject to ordinances after the 
commandments and doctrines of men. 

Mrs. Law. Surely, Miss Barnwell, you are prejudiced 
against the church of England, 



154 



Mir. Indeed, Madam, I am not ; nor is t-hat the case 
with the Christians with whom I associate. Only show to 
us from Scripture, that we practise any thing which we 
ought not to practise, or that we reject any tiling which we 
ought not to reject, and we will return you our sincere 
thanks. *>Ve are not only open to conviction, but we are 
willing and able to make the proposed alteration. You 
cannot say the same to us : I pity you on this account. 
Your church admits of no improvement : none of its errors 
ean be rectified, none of its imperfections removed; none 
of its defects supplied All the congregations in a diocese, 
with the clergy and bishop at their head, cannot make a 
single alteration ; no, nor yet all the congregations, and 
clergymen, and bishops in a province, with the archbishop 
at their head. The sun might as well never shine for you ; 
the parish clock must never be set by it ; it must always 
go as it does. To us, on the contrary, the word of God is 
a constant directory ; and we are at liberty to obey every 
one of the divine commands. 

Mrs. Law. There is, however, one jewel of which I 
think you cannot deprive us ; and that is, the piety of those 
great men by whom the church of England was founded. 

Mir. Their memory I shall ever revere. They per- 
formed a great deal, considering the darkness of the time 
in which they lived, and the short space they had to do it 
in. But they w r ere reformers, rather than founders. The 
church of England is not a new church built, but an old 
one mended. — We also can boast of thousands of worthies 
from almost the morning of the Reformation to the present 
time ; we can boast of two thousand ministers who joined 
us from the church in one day, because they w r ould not 
worship God according to the commandments of men. We 
can tell of thousands who died in prison, merely because 
they were dissenters, of others who had trial of cruel mock- 
ings ; and of others who were destitute, afflicted, torment- 
ed, of whom the world was not worthy. Soon after the 
Reformers had begun their work, they were called to lay 
down their lives ; and they w T ere succeeded by men of 



135 



another spirit. The Nonconformists were their true de- 
scendants, and carried on that reformation which they had 
only begun. Were Latimer and Ridley now upon earth, 
(to say nothing- of bishop Hooper, who might even then be 
called a dissenter,) I believe that they would associate with 
us. The Pharisees venerated the memory of Moses, and 
the scribes sat in his seat : but when Moses and Elijah vi- 
sited our world, they associated not with them, but with 
men of a new sect, upon which the Jewish priests looked 
with contempt. 

Mrs. Law concluded with saying, that she had not suffi- 
ciently considered the controversy ; but that, although she 
could say nothing more in defence of national churches, it 
would be wrong for her to infer that nothing more could 
be said. She wished me every blessing, and desired me 
to do nothing contrary to my conscience. This kind treat- 
ment was all I could either expect or wish ; and I should 
be glad if all religious people would terminate their dis- 
putes in as amiable a manner. 

I attend on the ministry of Mr. Lowe, a worthy Baptist 
minister who preaches at Barnwell : but my father is very 
angry, and my mother treats me with contempt for asso- 
ciating with beggars, as she terms a poor but decent people 
who compose the greatest part of his congregation. I 
shall not defile my paper with her ill-natured speeches ; 
for what better could be expected from a proud and irre- 
ligious woman. 

As a Christian should live as nearly as possible by rule, 
and as, unless this be done, we cannot hope to make any 
considerable progress in the divine life, it will greatly 
oblige my dear friend and myself, if you will favour us with 
your thoughts on this subject. 

I ever remain, my dear aunt, 
Your affectionate niece, 

MIRANDA BARNWELL. 



156 



LETTER XXV. 

From J\Tiss Eusebia Neville to Airs, War thing ten. 

BEAR MADAM) 

S 'NCE I wrote to you last, I have had many trials. In 
reading the Scriptures, such unbelieving and sometimes 
blasphemous thoughts have intruded themselves, that I 
have started, and shuddered with horror. I have also 
been tempted to think that after all I might deceive my- 
self, and be nothing but a hypocrite. 

On my informing cur friend Thomas of these things, he 
told me that he was persuaded I had a fever, and that my 
complaint would be removed with my disorder : indeed I 
have been fur from being well for some time. Thomas 
observed, that he had no doubt but those blasphemous 
thoughts, which may be justly compared to fiery darts, 
were caused by the wicked one, who takes occasion, from 
the different states and temperaments of our bodies, as 
well as from our various ages, constitutions and circum- 
stances, to make use of such temptations as he judges will 
succeed. Thus, said he, the hunger of Christ, and the 
fear of Peter, were made use of by Satan, as the means by 
which he would gladly have destroyed them. \\ ith re- 
gard to your being tempted to fear that after all you may 
prove a hypocrite, know, my friend, that unreasonable 
fears, as well as unreasonable hopes, ought to be discarded 
by our better judgment. There is, continued he, a cau- 
tious, child-like fear, implanted in the hearts of ail God's 
children ; and this fear is not quieted by any thing less 
than a dependence upon the Redeemer alone for right- 
eousness and strength, and a settled purpose to take up 
his cross daily, and to be obedient to all his commands. 
This kind of fear may justly by called the barometer of 
prayer ; for in proportion as it rises, we are brought low 
before the footstool of the divine majesty, which is a cer- 



157 



tain prelude to our exaltation. In common the fenrs of 
God's children are not anxious, corroding and tormenting, 
but are over-balanced by a settled and well-founded hope. 
And on the contrary their hope is not of the bold and pre- 
sumptuous kind, or such as permits them to do those 
things deliberately which they know are offensive to God. 
No, my dear friend, their happiest moments are balanced 
with fear, in order that they may be kept from carrying 
too much sail, and running upon rocks and quicksands. 
Thus our God, if we are in danger of being exalted above 
measure, permits some thorn in the flesh to wound us, 
some messenger of Satan mercifully to buffet us ; because 
this transitory life is not our rest. Or if we are likely to 
sink in floods of temptations and trials, he puts out his 
hand to save us ; like as our Lord saved Peter, whose 
faith failed him when walking on the waves. 

It seems then, Thomas, said I, that if our hope of eter- 
nal life be such as to keep us from tormenting fears, it is 
sufficient for this imperfect state ; and that, on the other 
hand, if our fear is the mean of our walking cautiously, 
humbly, and circumspectly, it ought to be considered as 
a blessing rather than as an impediment. To this my 
friend fully agreed. 

O Madam, you can scarcely conceive how happy I am at 
times in this good man's company. I wish I could say 
that that was the case at home : but I have much reason to 
bless God that it is no worse with me. My father return- 
ed a week past ; and my sister and father Albino have 
spared no pains to inform him what an incorrigible here- 
tic I am. i hey told him also of the letter I received from 
Mr Charles Clifford. But truly, Madam, he is the best 
of fathers ; for instead of reproaching me, he said, my 
friends, this sweet lamb (for so he kindly called me) has 
wandered from the fold of Christ; but instead of worrying 
her, it becomes us to imitate the good Shepherd of Israel, 
who carries the lambs in bis bosom, and gently leads those 
that are with young. Come, my child, (taking hold of my 
hand and kissing it,) make the heart of your afliicted parent 



158 



glad, by giving me hopes that we shall spend a long eter- 
nity together in the presence of God. Alas, my dear love, 
what is time ? It is like a tale that is told. But eternity, 
how long i Think, my Eusebia, what it is which renders 
lis capable of enjoying the beatific vision. It is holiness, 
without which no man shall see the Lord. And notwith- 
standing all that Mr. Clifford has blasphemously said 
against the church of Rome, its enemies must confess that 
a great number of its members in every age have been fa- 
mous for holiness. Now that church cannot in its own na- 
ture be bad, whose institutions have had such salutary 
effects : nor can the religion of protestants be good, whose 
lives in general are notoriously unholy. Where do you 
find among protestants, those who leave the world, that 
they may be entirely dedicated to the service of God ; or 
any who undergo voluntary sufferings, because they have 
sinned against so great and so good a being ? Or indeed, 
where do you find among them that primitive hospitality, 
and those almsdeeds, for which the church of Rome has 
always been so eminent ? These are realities. In judging 
therefore of things, we should not judge with prejudice, 
nor according to fallacious appearances ; but we should 
judge righteous judgment. There may have been many 
feigned miracles among us, and several other things not 
altogether defensible : but did a wise man ever throw 
away an apple because there was a speck in it ? While we 
ourselves are imperfect creatures, we cannot with any 
justice or propriety expect perfection in others. This I 
maintain, that the church of Rome has in all ages been 
friendly to holiness of life, and has studied every method 
to promote it: they, therefore, who find fault, must do it 
either from captiousness or ignorance. My dear child, 
consider, I conjure you, these things which you know to 
be true, and leave those pernicious heresies into which you 
have been so unhappily deluded. 

This tender usage, and this zeal for my happiness, melt- 
ed me into tears. After I had a little recovered myself, I 
took hold of my dear parent's hand, and embraced it. O 



159 



my good, my kind father, cried I, I trust that God will in- 
deed favour us so highly as to cause us to spend an eterni- 
ty together in his presence. It is my constant prayer that 
this may be the case. O thou Father of mercies, grant 
for the sake of thy dear Son, that these my friends may 
come to me ; for thou kiiowest I cannot go to them. You 
must not say so, interrupted father Albino. Your honour- 
ed parent has shown that the church of Rome has always 
been friendly to holiness of life. In proof of the same 
thing, I may also appeal to the saints, and even to the days 
set apart to commemorate their bright example, which are 
intended to help us forward in our Christian course. Pray, 
my child, look around you, and see if among all your he- 
retical acquaintances, you can find any one w 7 hose purse is 
ever open, like that of your father, to relieve the distresses, 
and alleviate the miseries of mankind. Moreover, you 
will not easily find those who spend as much time in their 
closets in a year, as he does in a day : and in their families 
they arc alike remiss. Whereas you, my child, have been 
brought up in a family, where prayer without ceasing has 
been offered to the divine Majesty, both with you and for 
you ; so that your defection from the only true church of 
Christ is as amazing as it is dreadful. 

Pray, my good father, replied I, hear me patiently. I 
do indeed grant, that that religion is the most perfect which 
is the best calculated to promote holiness of life ; and I 
am not to learn, blessed be God, that without personal 
holiness no man shall see the Lord. Yet I can conceive ic 
to be possible, that a person may give all his goods to feed 
the poor, and even his body to be burned, and be destitute 
of love to the true God. I can also easily conceive, that 
persons may be very diligent in private, domestic, and 
public worship, while they have only the form of godli- 
ness, and are destitute of the power. True religion con- 
sists in a knowledge of the true God, and of his Son Jesus 
Christ; and in being conformed to him through the influ- 
ence of the holy Spirit, who, to accomplish these desirable 
ends, takes of the things of Jesus which are revealed in 



160 

the Scriptures, and shows them unto us. The children of 
Goci are sanctified by the truth, and not by any contrivances 
of men. With regard to prayer, although he is certainly 
no Christian who is not habitually breathing out his soul 
unto God in prayer, yet it would not follow that we were 
Christhns, were we to spend twenty hours out of the four- 
and-twenty in private, family, and public worship ; since, 
without faith, or a right understanding and belief of divine 
truth, it is impossible to please God. The Pharisees made 
long prayers, and were not destitute of a form of godli- 
ness ; and the Turks in general most conscientiously pray 
five times a day, and will not neglect the appointed times 
of prayer, be their business ever so urgent. Zeal may 
prove a person to be superstitious ; but it does not prove 
him to be holy, unless it be regulated by the oracles of 
truth. 

And pray, my dear child, cried my father, who is most 
likely to understand the oracles of truth ? The fathers, 
doctors, and learned men of our church, some of whom 
lived in the days of the apostles ; or you, a mere babe* 
who indeed are almost literally but of yesterday ? 

If the Scriptures, Sir, are true, replied I, the chance is 
in my favour ; since they declare that God has hid these 
things from the wise and prudent, and revealed them uu^ 
to babes. 

Alas, Sir, cried father Albino, whatever you say, she 
has an answer at her tongue's end. This is the old road 
which we have travelled over and over again. Scripture 
may be brought to prove almost any thing, which shows 
the necessity of our understanding it as the church does. 
Here lies the great difference between us and heretics* 
If you ask a catholic what is the rule of his faith and prac- 
tice, he will tell you, The Scriptures, as they have been 
understood by the church in all ages, which church those 
very Scriptures declare to be the pillar and ground of the 
truth. If you ask a heretic what is the rule of his faith, he 
will also tell you, The Scriptures ; but if you further ask 
him who is to judge of the sense of the Scriptures, he ve* 



J6l 



ry modestly replies, himself. When a person is judge in 
his own cause, it is no marvel if he decides in his own fa- 
vour. 

I was going to tell Signior Albino, that the servants of 
Jesus are both the only true church of Christ, and also the 
only pillars or supporters of the truth ; but my father stop- 
ped me by observing, that the friends of the Redeemer 
manifest their love to him by obeying, and not by disputing. 
He therefore earnestly desired me, he said, to weigh 
these things calmly, and to endeavour to manifest my love 
to God by my obedience to my parent. 

The morning after the above conversation, my father 
told me, that, as the weather began to be fine, he and 
father Albino intended to take a journey to St. Omer's, to 
see my brother ; and he earnestly entreated me to accom- 
pany him, and to take the veil, either at that city, where 
there are always a great many English people, or at Ca- 
lais, if i should like that place better. Father Albino back- 
ed this request by observing, that, in the company of the 
holy sisters, I should soon forget my unhappy prejudices; 
and that he should expect no less than to hear I was be- 
come a saint. 

I implored my father, on my knees, not to think of 
placing me in a nunnery ; for that I would rather be turn- 
ed out of doors, than be imprisoned for life with persons 
with whom 1 could expect no kind of happiness. 

Well, my child, cried my father, if you will consent to 
go with us to see your brother, for whom I know you have 
the most sincere affection. I give you my word and honour 
that no method shall be used to make you comply with my 
request, except entreaty. But 1 flatter myself, my dear 
Eusebia, that the piety and persuasion of your dear brother 
may be the means of your seeing both your duty and 
your happiness, which are so inseparably connected. 

Ah, my dear child, said father Albino, if you should es- 
cape this dreadful shipwreck of faith and a good con- 
science, I solemnly vow to go on a pilgrimage to St. James 
of Compostella. 

O 2 



1 62 



My dear father also vowed, if I was once more merciful- 
ly brought into the bosom of the church, that he would 
give to our Lady of Loretto a new robe, and a pair of sil- 
ver candlesticks of fifty pounds weight. 

I could do no less than thank my friends for the concern 
and zeal they manifested for my welfare : and I promised 
to go with my father on the conditions he had mentioned ; 
for I long to see my brother, between whom and myself 
the mutual affection was so great that one soul seemed to 
animate us both. 

I do not know when we shall set out, but I expect it will 
be soon ; nor do I know whether my sister will accompa- 
ny us. I rather wish she may not, as she has greatly per- 
secuted me. Poor girl, the greater is her misfortune. I 
ou»: ht not to think it hard ; for who in their right minds 
"would not rather suffer affliction with the people of God, 
tlfan enjoy the pleasure of sin for a season ? 

You may depend upon it, Madam, that I shall embrace 
every opportunity of writing to you, which my dear Miss 
Barnwell must consider as writing to her also ; and I hope 
to have the pleasure of copying another of Mrs. Worthing- 
ton's letters for the perusal of my brother. I have trans- 
cribed in a fair hand the whole of our correspondence; 
since, as my friends as well as myself will be accused to 
him of heresy, it is but just he should see w herein our 
heresy consists. Requesting the prayers of you and my 
dear Miranda, that God will mercifully preserve me, I 
mice more subscribe myself, 
Dear Madam, 

Your affectionate friend, and 
Humble servant, 

EUSEBIA NEVILLE 



1 63 



LETTER XXVI. 
Front Airs. War thing ion to 3 lies Eiizcbia JYevill-- 

MY DEAR MISS NEVILLE, 

I AM sorry that you are going into a popish country ; 
but having promised to accompany your father, you can- 
not retract, especially as he has engaged not to force 
you into a nunnery. I commend you to the care and gui- 
dance of the Shepherd of Israel, who neither slumbers 
nor sleeps. Cast all your care upon him, my dear friend, 
for he careth for you. 

The argument used by your friends to prove the excel- 
lence of the church of Rome, founded upon the holiness 
of many of its members, is inconclusive. In self-denial and 
mortifications of almost every kind, the devotees in the 
most corrupt religions have neither been exceeded nor 
equalled by catholics or protestants. Many of the Hin- 
doos use such cruelty to their bodies in order to atone for 
their sins, that the hair-shirts worn by catholics on the 
same account, together with their whipping themselves, 
and other austerities, bear scarcely any proportion to it. 
The priests of Baal also were sincere worshippers of that 
senseless idol ; witness their crying unto him from morn- 
ing to evening, and cutting themselves with knives and 
lancets ; and I have no doubt but in their day they had the 
repute of being very holy men, as well as those idolaters 
who made their children pass through the fire to Moloch, 
giving the fruit of their bodies for the sin of their souls. 

I believe mortals have never erred more concerning any 
one thing than concerning holiness. The generality seem 
to think, that if they are sincere, devout, and what is cal- 
led moral, they must be holy. But it ought to be consi- 
dered that devotion may have for its object an icoi of the 
imagination j an unknown God, who may be ignorantly 



164 



worshipped. Hence oar Lord lays so great a stress upon 
the knowledge of the true God, and of the Messiah, who 
is the only medium of access to him whom no man hath 
seen nor can see. 

The Old and New Testaments contain the revealed 
mind of God. The love of that mind is the essence of 
true holiness. They who love the mind of God love God, 
and feel the deepest contrition on account of the sins of 
their most holy things. From these principles flows that 
obedience which is accepted by God after if: has been wash- 
ed in the blood of the Saviour. Any other holiness is no 
better than suffering coals of fire to lie on the head, with 
the Hindoo ; than visiting the tomb of Mahomet, with the 
mussulman ; or than going on pilgrimage, with the catho- 
lic, to what he calls the holy land. 

I pray, my dear child, that our correspondence which 
you have transcribed for your brother's perusal, may have 
a proper effect. The obedience and death of Christ are 
the sin-offering, the peace-offering, and the grand atone- 
ment, whereby a guilty sinner has access to God. if your 
brother has had his sins set in array before him, and if he 
has had a view of the mountains of divine wrath which 
will certainly overwhelm the ungodly, the letters which 
you have transcribed may with the divine blessing con- 
vince him that nothing can recommend him to the divine 
favour but the blood of the Saviour. Being once convinc- 
ed of this, he will esteem the many things substituted by 
both catholics and protectants in its room, as things of no 
value. Thus Paul esteemed every thing, when compared 
with the knowledge of Christ, and with being found in 
him, not having his own righteousness. 

In my niece's last letter is a dialogue between her and 
Mrs. Law upon the subject of dissent from national reli- 
gions. Any religion would do better for a state religion 
than Christianity, because no other religion would be 
thereby injured: whereas Christianity, by its alliance with 
the state, is greatly debased. The only motive for teach- 
ing and professing Christianity ought to be the hope of 



165 



eternal life. Should it be objected, that dissenting teach- 
ers as well as others live by preaching* the gospel, it may 
be replied, that there are few instances wherein the abili- 
ties and character required of a dissenting minister might 
not be more profitably engaged in trade, manuiactures, 
and merchandize, or in the professions of medicine and the 
law. 

Your brother may possibly reply, that the catholics ia 
England are in this respect upon the same footing with 
other dissenters I answer, This is not the case ; for. the 
consciences of Roman cathoiics being under the direction 
of the bishop of Rome, they are obliged to approve of a 
national religion. When they cease to do this y they are 2?o- 
man catholics in nothing but the name ; for the very sting 
and poison of popery consist in the alliance between church 
and state ; or in the kings of the earth giving their power 
to that ravenous beast, which is represented in the Reve- 
lation as the image of Home pagan. But for the interpo- 
sition of the kings of the earth, the Scriptures could not 
for so many ages have been kept out of the hands ot the 
people. The invention of printing, that wonderful art, 
was such a cause of the dissemination of knowledge, that 
from that moment we may date the beginning of the fall of 
antichrist. A partial reformation took place in several 
countries of Europe, and popery, even in popish countries, 
received a rude shock : but this is nothing to what it is to 
receive ; for the word of God must be accomplished. The 
time approaches when national religions will fall to rise 
no more. Indeed, a knowledge of the pride, ignorance, 
covetousness, and cruelty of the great body of the clergy 
of all establishments, will be so abundantly transmitted to 
future generations by the faithful page of history, that 
when the mother of harlots and her daughters are buried, 
there will be no danger of their rising from the dead. 

I do not wonder that there are some dissenting minis- 
ters who approve of religious establishments under what 
they call proper regulations. Human nature is the same 
out of national churches as in them. It is because they 



m 

desire to be independent of their people. I have however 
long observed, that, in general, where ministers among 
the dissenters walk in a becoming manner, no people meet 
with greater respect Where it is otherwise, it common- 
ly arises from a red or supposed difference of sentiments, 
In such a case, it may be prudent for a minister to remove 
to a place where his labours will be more acceptable : and, 
if he has behaved properly") in doing this he will find no 
difficulty. But if the great majority of the people where 
he has laboured should desire him to continue among 
them, and he should comply with this desire, the minority 
will probably secede If any should form an objection 
from this to the independency of churches, #e may reply, 
that in this life there is nothing perfect ; and that every 
rose has its thorn. Frequently, however, such divisions 
are necessary, and, instead of being an evil, are a great 
good. In process of time, the majority of a church of 
protestast dissenters are liable to depart from the faith 
and practice of their pious ancestors. A minister of their 
own sentiments will probably be chosen. It will then be 
prudent for the minority peaceably to withdraw. And it 
ought to be esteemed a great mercy that they can do so : 
for what fellowship has Christ with Belial ; or those who 
tremble at God's word, with persons who appear not to 
pay an implicit obedience to what he has revealed ? It is a 
great imperfection adheiing to national churches, that they 
are composed of Calvinists, Arminians, Arians, Socinians, 
and the visibly dishonest and profane. Such a heterogene- 
ous mixture, united neither by truth, nor love, nor civility? 
can derive no benefit from church-fellowship. When 
they meet together to commemorate the death of Christ, 
and to profess, in the presence of God, that, as they par- 
take of one bread, so they consider themselves as one body, 
united together by faith and love ; — if they think at all, 
they must consider this as solemn mockery. 

The church of Rome, my dear friend, has this imper- 
fection in common with other national churches, and fre- 
quently in a much greater degree. If, therefore} I were 



167 

to be with your brother at St. Omer's, I would entreat him 
to read his New Testament on his knees, and to endea- 
vour to learn from that invaluable book> whether the church 
or kingdom of Christ was intended to be a worldly king- 
dom, contrary to the good confession testified by Christ 
before Pilate, that his kingdom was not of this world. 

Pray give my kind love to your brother. Ke will per- 
ceive that in writing this letter. I did not forget him. I 
have had two things principally in view ; first, the nature 
of Christ's church or kingdom ; and secondly, the nature 
of that holiness without which no man shall see the 
Lord. 

As we cannot expect to hear regularly from you, and as 
we shall wish to know how you spend your time in France, 
I beg you will minute every night the occurrences of the 
day, especially the conversations in which you shall have 
been engaged. A journal of this kind will exceedingly 
oblige me. Indeed I shall esteem nothing uninteresting 
that concerns my dear friend. 

Wishing you a prosperous journey, and the presence 
of him who has promised to be with his children to the 
end of the world, 

I am, with the greatest esteem, 
My dear Miss Neville, 

Your affectionate friend, 

MARY WORTHINGTON, 



LETTER XXVJI. 

From Mrs. IVorthington to Miss Barnwell. 

MY DEAR CHILD, 

I HAVE written a letter to Miss Eusebia Neville, which 
I sh. 11 enclose in a cover to you, and which you will endea- 
vour to convey to her before she sets out for St. Omer's. 

I do not expect, my dear Miranda, that you will have 
much comfort at home* Light cannot have fellowship 



168 



with darkness, nor Christ with Belial. I shall expect you 
therefore to share with me at Islington what God has mer- 
cifully left me of my fortune. You had great, and appa- 
rently just expectations of an ample fortune yourself, be- 
ing the only child of a parent more than sixty years of age : 
but you will more and more perceive that nothing in this 
world is to be accounted of. Remember, that God as a 
sovereign has a right to dispose both of us and ours ; it be- 
comes us then to be still, and to know that he is God, 
The remainder of unbelief and of a corrupt nature never 
appears more conspicuously than in discontent and impa- 
tience under the cross. Our God knows what is best for 
us ; he proportions our sufferings to our strength ; and I 
doubt not we shall have reason to acknowledge, that he 
has led us through the wilderness by a right way, and 
that all things have worked together for our good. 

I have read your conversation with Mrs. Law, and have 
not the least? doubt that national churches will come to an 
end. The fall of them will be the fall of the kingdom of 
antichrist. I do not deny that many servants of God are 
to be found in the different streets of Babylon : but his 
command is, Come out of her, my fieofile^ that ye be not par- 
takers of her sins, and that ye receive not of her plagues. 
If there were no Christians in those antichristian commu- 
nities, they would not be commanded to come out from 
them. I cannot say that I wish the corporation and test 
acts to be repealed ; for though I consider them as unjust 
towards dissenters, and as highly offensive to God by pro- 
faning a divine institution, yet if dissenters were more 
mingled with the world, it might be injurious to them in 
a religious view. Those acts too are the mark of the man 
of sin : and why should dissenters try to wash that Ethio- 
pian white ? 

I shall now endeavour, agreeably to your desire, briefly 
to state the rules by which a Christian ought daily to con- 
duct himself. 

It is unnecessary for me to remark that the word of God 
is the only rule of faith and practice. You are fully es* 



169 



tablished in this truth, and need not be reminded that it 
will be your duty to measure the following weak attempt 
by that unerring standard. 

The best general rule that I know of is to intend the 
divine glory, in our business, our eating, our drinking, our 
recreation, and indeed in every action of our lives. We 
ought to lay it down as a preliminary, that being bought 
with so great a price as the blood of Jesus, we henceforth 
are not our own ; but that our time, and all that we are* 
and all that we have, belong to God ; and that he has be- 
stowed them upon us, only that we may use them to his 
glory, with which our happiness is invariably connected. 
This is so obvious a truth, that I should think no man, I am 
certain no Christian will dispute it. 

Our time, after that part of it has been deducted which 
is sufficient for the refreshment of the body by sleep, na- 
turally divides itself into the portions assigned to the fol- 
lowing particulars : — Prayer, reading the Scriptures, me- 
ditation, business, food, and recreation ; of which in their 
order. 

The servants of God have a freedom of access into his 
presence at ail times through the Mediator. When pro- 
fessors of religion do not frequently make use of this pri- 
vilege, it is a certain sign of one of these two things : ei- 
ther that they are entire strangers to the divine life, or 
that their souls are in an unprosperous and languishing 
state. Beside praying always, or habitually, by pouring 
out your soul to God in ejaculatory breathings, 1 would re- 
commend it to you to have stated times for private prayer. 
The prophet Daniel, though a great statesman, and im- 
mersed in public business, found time to engage in this di- 
vine exercise three times a day ; and I have no doubt he 
only did that which Ivas commonly practised by God's peo- 
ple . Peter went up to the top of the house to pray about 
the sixth hour, which answers to our noon; and it is rea* 
sonable to suppose that he began and ended the day in the 
like manner. With regard to morning and evening prayer, 
it will be sufficient to say, that 1 would wish you to defer 

P 



170 

neither of them too long. If any thing, however, should 
accidentally hinder you from being exact to your time, by 
no means omit it ; for one omission makes way for another. 
Begin with prayer, which I would wish you to perform in 
a kneeling posture ; for though that may seem to some in- 
different, yet we need to be impressed with an awful sense 
of the disproportion which there is between such worms 
as we are, and that august Being whom we approach. As 
to the manner, either use mental prayer, or let your words 
be so low that no person can distinguish them at your clo- 
set door. To do otherwise savours too much of Pharisa- 
ical hypocrisy ; at least it will cause your good to be evil 
spoken of, and not without reason. In general, I would 
caution you against continuing it too long : doing so has a 
tendency to beget formality. Endeavour to impress your 
mind with a deep sense of the solemnity of the duty, and 
that you are actually as much in the divine presence as if 
you beheld the adorable Jehovah. Begin with adoration, 
or hallowing of the name of God. To this will naturally 
succeed thanksgiving, in which you cannot be at a loss for 
matter ; since we are made partakers of eternal life through, 
and live every moment upon, the divine favour. It will 
then be proper to call to mind your particular transgres- 
sions, whether in thought, word, or deed ; and humbly to 
confess them before the majesty of heaven and earth. 
Close all with petition. Let it be your request that he 
will pardon your sins for the sake of his dear Son, and that 
he will give you every needful mercy, especially his Spirit 
to guide and guard you, and to increase your knowledge 
and approbation of those things which are most excellent. 
Remember that God only can deliver you from evil, and 
from that evil one who desires to have us that he may sift 
us as wheat. Lastly, intercede for those whom you are in 
duty bound to pray for ; your relatives and friends ; those 
whom you know to be in distress of body or mind ; and in 
general the whole cause and kingdom of Christ, as also 
the government and com rn unity of which you are a mem- 
ber. I would rather wish you, my childj to be deeply im- 



171 

pressed with a sense of your wants, and of God's ability to 
supply them, than to dwell long upon each particular. Re- 
member also the promises which God has made to his peo- 
ple, and plead them with him. It may not be amiss to 
add, that one advantage resulting from prayer is, that it 
impresses our minds with an habitual sense of our w r ants., 
and of our dependence on the divine Being. For the 
most part, when our God intends to bestow a mercy he 
gives a spirit of supplication, that we may have an oppor- 
tunity of observing the answers of our petitions. This 
strengthens our faith, inflames our love, and makes us tra- 
vel the heavenly road with cheerfulness and vigour. 

Either before or after prayer I advise you to read a 
chapter out of the Old or New Testament in order. You 
will thereby have a better opportunity of observing the 
connexion, and understanding the mind of the Holy Spirit. 
In reading these divine writings, we should remember 
that they are not the words of men, but the words of the 
living God ; even those words by w hich we shall be judg- 
ed at the last day. It can never be unnecessary to remind 
you, my dear niece, that every part of religious w orship, 
whether public or private, is a mean to regulate our judg- 
ment, our temper, and our practice ; and that unless these 
ends are answered, we receive no real advantage. Nay, 
we ought to beware lest our very strictness in the path of 
duty should lead us to be proud and vain-glorious. I ac- 
knowledge this cannot happen, unless a departure from 
the truth first take place. We should therefore never 
lose sight of this grand axiom, this first principle of the 
gospel, that our God accepteth our persons and our ser- 
vices, merely and entirely, from first to last, only on ac- 
count of what his well-beloved Son has done and suffered 
for us. This truth is the key of divine revelation : a de- 
parture from it would reduce our religion to a level with 
paganism. As the obedience of Christ, which in fact in- 
cludes his sufferings, proceeded from God's eternal love to 
his people, so is it the only ground of their acceptance with 
him ; and it is by causing them to believe this truth that 



173 

he reconciles them to himself. This it is which is hrsX 
••md pri:, ip^ily uais,ht us in the Lord's supper, wnere we 
learn, that the broken body and the shed blood or tne Son 
of God are the life of our souls, in the xam& manner as 
bread and wine are the life of our bodies. You will not 
wonder that I press the consideration of this so forcibly ; 
for where this truth is disregarded, hypocrisy begins. 

Meditation, as a Christian duty, is a thinking on oivine 
tilings. The mind being always etnp.o^ed, our happiness 
will much consist in finding it proper employment when 
is not engaged about the necessary affairs of life. The 
subjects of meditation are numberless ; but those about 
which a Christian should be engaged, are chieny God 
and himself. God ; — the wisdom, power, and goodness, 
which he has manifested in the works of creation ; and 
the justice, mercy, and hatred of sin, which he has dis- 
played in redemption. These may be gre :ded and 
sub-divided : but I only mention them in the briefest man* 
ner. Ourselves ; — the importance of our being brought 
into existence ; what we are capable of enjoying or suffer- 
ing ; and the eternity that is before us, during which we 
must be either happy in the presence of God, or excluded 
from the realms of bliss. These subjects furnish, like- 
wise, an inexhaustible fund for conversation. It is to be 
I me: ted that many waste their social hours in the retail- 
ing of slander, more perhaps for want of better topics 
than thrcurh malevolence. 

To labour in some useful employment, either for the 
benefit of ourselves or others, is that in which all the ser- 
vants of God should study to glorify him. It is not only 
his command that we should be diligent in business ; but 
our health and well-being depend under him upon an ac- 
tive and industrious life. If idleness be not clothe 
rags, as it often is, and to which it always tends, yet our 
health will be exceedingly impaired by indolence and in- 
activity : not to mention the guilt that is contracted by 
living in the breach of the divine c 
temptations to which we thereby expose ourselves ; fer 



I/O 

we shall find by experience, that when we have nothing to 
do, Satan will be busy with his temptations. Il should 
likewise be our study to employ ourselves in such a man- 
ner that our hearts may not reproach us in our closets 
with being unprofitable servants, when we take a view of 
our actions. 

The next portion of time which I shall consider, is that 
occupied in refreshing the body with food. This, as 
well as every other action of our lives, ought to be done 
to the glory of God ; and in this as well as in every 
other thing, our duty and happiness are connected. By no 
means take the intemperate for your pattern : they have 
their reward, and a dreadful one it is, in this life. An in- 
temperate person is not only a dishonour to religion, but he 
renders himself unfit for prayer, meditation, and every 
other duty. 

Temperance is the grand elixir of life. The temperate 
man enjoys a healthful body, and if he be a Christian, a 
tranquil mind, as long as God intended the machine should 
last, and then is gathered to his fathers as a shock of corn 
fully ripe. Temperance renders the body of a Christian a 
proper habitation for his soul. It makes him calm and se- 
rene amid troubles and temptations ; and enables him to 
enjoy the blessings of time, and the prospects of eternity ? 
with additional pleasure. The temperate man relishes his 
food better than he whose appetite is palled by repletion 5 
so that he in fact is the epicure ; while he who is intempe- 
rate never tastes any pleasant food, nor enjoys a good 
meal. 

" People in the lower ranks," says Dr. Mead, " en- 
joy the common advantages of existence more intensely 
than those in the higher walks of life. Wholesome 
food is acquired by moderate labour, which improves 
the appetite and digestion. Hence sound sleep, uninter- 
rupted by corroding cares, refreshes the wearied limbs, 
How vastly inferior to these blessings are the delicacies of 
the affluent, which are ever accompanied with real evils > 
Their appetites, in order to relish their food, must be stir 

P 2 



174 < 

muiated by poignant sauces, which heat and vitiate the 
blood, and render the body iiable to distempers. Their 
excesses disturb their repose, and their children are af- 
flicted with infirmities through the course of a languid life, 
which seldom reaches to old age." 

I come now to recreation. And here I must premise, 
that a morose gloominess is no pan of Christianity. If 
the heirs of eternal glory be not cheerful, I know not who 
should be so It is true that routs, bails, and assemblies 
have lost their power of delighting us, because at them 
we can neither give satisfaction nor receive it. Yet the 
friendship and conversation of the children of God much 
more than balance the loss of such frothy pleasures. It is 
more than probable you will not think, with the polite 
world, that it is worth your while to go fifty or a hundred 
miles to a horse-race ; but still, in your library, in your 
garden, or in the field, you will find an ample compensa- 
tion. A little reading and practice will give you a com- 
petent knowledge of botany. There you will learn, that 
the weeds you trample under your feet, and which perhaps 
you may look upon as useless cumberers of the ground, are 
so many alembics, in which the Almighty Physician pre- 
pares healing juices and remedies for mankind. If you 
choose to be more exquisitely, yet as innocently gratified, 
endeavour to improve your knowledge in the different 
parts of natural philosophy. It will not be difficult for 
you to obtain a general knowledge of astronomy, so far at 
least as to excite your admiration cf the wisdom of that 
God who created, and who governs^tfiese innumerable 
worlds of light. 

I have known you proud, Miranda, in telling me that 
your father did this or that ; and I have commended the 
honest pleasure. But now you may take a survey of the 
august dome under which you are placed, and may cry 
out, w hen you view those stupendous bodies which per- 
form their revolutions round the sun, together with those 
myriads of stars which probably are other suns surrounded 
by attendant worlds, All these were created by, and belong 



175 



to my Father I Do you think the finest opera-air ever 
gave such heart-felt pleasure as such a thought I No In 
real delights, in the most sublime pleasures, Christians are 
more extravagant and luxurious than the most expensive 
prodigals. 

It becomes those who are determined to serve either 
God and mammon, or God and pleasure, in the world's 
sense of that term, to remember Lot's wife. They look 
back with longing eyes upon the things of time and sense, 
as she looked back upon Sodom ; and they will be made 
fearful monuments of his vengeance, who is a jealous God, 
and who will not suffer any to look behind them after hav- 
ing put their hand to the plough. 

The amount of what I intended to say concerning the 
use of your time is this. Let it be entirely spent in walk- 
ing with God. Whether you are engaged in prayer, in 
reading the Scriptures, in meditation, in labour, in eating 
and drinking, or in recreation, let all be done to his glory. 
At the same time, beware of a spirit of formality and self- 
dependence ; and trust only in the perfect obedience and 
atonement of the Son of God for eternal life. Wishing 
you to be much in earnest, as I trust you are, about the 
one thing needful, I continue, 

My dear Miranda, 

Your affectionate aunt, 

MARY WORTHINGTONo 



LETTER XXVIII. 

From Miss. Eusebia Neville to Mrs. Worthington. 

BEAR MADAM, 

I RECEIVED your kind letter, and have also seen your 
letter to Miss Barnwell. Your directions for the spending 
of time I have read with pleasure. 

I feel my unhappiness more and more in being in a fa- 
mily where I can -hare no religious conversation; and 



where we look upon one another as travelling to everlast- 
ing perdition. My poor sister continues very unkincL 
She telis me that the bishops in the time of queen Man- 
were too lenient ; and that things would not have been at 
their present pass, if for every one whom they burnt they 
had burnt a thousand. I have no doubt, continued she* 
that the massacres, as they are called, at Paris, and other 
places, which these heretics make so much noise about, 
were deferred till every other method had proved inef- 
fectual. 

This was part of the conversation this morning at break- 
fast. But I am glad to say that my father did not appear 
to relish these inhuman speeches. He enjoined my sister 
silence ; and told her and father Albino, who was equally 
violent, that it was his own opinion, with deference how- 
ever to those of better judgment, that the bishops had 
been too rash and precipitate, and that more gentle reme- 
dies would have been attended with better success. This 
point my father and the priest disputed for some time ; and 
I am sorry to add, that my dear parent allowed, that when 
every other remedy had been long tried in vain, then, and 
not before, such unfruitful and pernicious trees ought to 
be cut clown as cumberers of the ground. How T different 
this from the gentle, meek, and benevolent spirit of the 
Redeemer ! Our heavenly Father suffers long and is kind. 
And his only and well-beloved Son went about doing good 
unto all, and evil to none ; and with his dying breath pray- 
ed even for his murderers, saying, Father, forgive them, 
for they know not what they do. He is indeed the Prince 
of Peace. He suffers not his children to render evil for 
evil, but commands them to do good to, and pray for, 
their implacable enemies. When the Samaritans would 
not receive him, some of his disciples, too much in the 
spirit of antichrist, desired permission to command fire to 
come down from heaven to consume them; but he told 
them that they knew not what manner of spirit they were of. 

Signior Albino justified his fiery zeal, by asserting that 
the heretics are enemies to all righteousness, ajid that 



177 



they who suffered in the reign of queen Mary were sinners 
of the deepest dye, being the spawn of that arch-heretic 
Calvin. 

And I suppose, Eu^ebia, said my father, you are what 
heretics call a Calvinist. My child, 1 would sooner be an 
atheist than a. Calvinist. 

Ah, my dear father, said I, you and my friends know not 
what you may yet be. The Lord of the universe frequent- 
ly arrests us when we are upon the Ml career to destruo 
tion. Saul, at the time that he was breathing out threat- 
enings against the friends of Jesus, was stopped by an 
almighty hand; and he never, forgot the distinguishing 
mercy. 

And pray, said Signior Albino, what was the reason that 
St. Paul obtained mercy 1 He himself assigns it ; — he tells 
us that what he did was done ignorantly in unbelief. 

And did not, replied I, his fellow-travellers, and the 
greatest part of his nation, reject the Messiah, through ig- 
norance and unbelief as well as he ? How was it then that 
he only found mercy, and not they also ? 

What, cried my sister angrily, would yoa persuade us 
that every body may not be saved if they will ? 

By no means, replied I ; if any person is willing to be 
saved by Jesus Christ, that person is in fact already saved. 

My mouth was stopped by my father's telling me, that 
these were things with which we had no concern ; and 
that the church had wisely kept the Scriptures out of the 
hands of the common people. Father Albino applauded 
the observation, and finished the conversation by gravely 
asserting, that the Bible had made more heretics than all 
the books in the world besides. 

My thoughts almost continually dwell on my dear Mi- 
randa. How unwisely has Mr. Barnwell acted! He and 
Mrs. Barnwell are now at Bath, where she has lost at play 
upwards of two hundred pounds. My father told us he 
was informed of this by a friend of his just come from that 
place. Miranda did not choose to go, so that I cannot tell 
whether she knows of it yet. Poor girl, how unhappy 
must she be in such a family. 



178 



Gaming is a vice which springs from idleness and cc* 
vetousness. Time, though it be so precious, hangs upon 
the hands of the indolent. Unwilling to employ them* 
selves as they ought, they have recourse to gaming. 
When they are become dexterous at this idle amusement* 
then covetousness steps in, and informs them how they 
may gratify their thirst for gain. Well ! this is a vice 
which no Christian, I think, runs any hazard of falling in- 
to. If Christianity only taught its votaries ta be content 
with such things as they have, it would be infinitely useful 
to mankind. I must say in behalf of my father, that he 
always abhorred gaming. He often remarks, when he 
sees people playing at cards, that he looks upon them as 
pickpockets and highwaymen in the bud ; and that the 
best reason Which can be assigned for their conduct is, 
their being unqualified to bear a part in any profitable con- 
versation. So much does he despise gaming of every 
kind, that he never would have a ticket in the lottery. It 
is a way of raising money, he says, which is calculated to 
make servants rob their masters ; and to make debtors 
rob their creditors, by laying out that money in tickets 
with which they ought to pay their debts. Indeed, Ma- 
dam, my father is an excellent man in many respects. The 
great certainty he has of his being sincere, is the principal 
reason that he cannot doubt the truth of his sentiments : 
whereas sincerity, merely of itself, does not prove us to 
be either right or wrong. A mussuiman may be sincere. 
Many of the Jews were sincere in crucifying Christ. Yea, 
a man may be sincerely wicked. Sincerity is only valua* 
ble when it is the fruit of divine teaching, and when it ma- 
nifests itself in a steady adherence to the words of the 
apostles and prophets. 

The religion of protectants is another thing which con- 
firms him in his sentiments. And, indeed, I cannot pray 
that he should become such a protestant as the generality 
of protestants are ; for of what use is it to protest against 
the errors of the church of Eome^ if, instead of false reli- 
gion> we substitute no religion, as it must be confessed 



179 

protestants in general do ? Christ's kingdom, which is not 
©fthis world, does not consist of the multitude, nor ever 
did ; but of one here, and another there, whom he has re- 
deemed from among men, and called by his word and spi- 
rit out of the world. Were my dear father happy enough 
to be acquainted with protestants of this character, he could 
not draw a conclusion in favour of Roman catholics. 

We are to begin our journey the latter end of this 
month, or the beginning of May. I shall not write again 
before we go, "unless something occur which I do not ex* 
pect. 

I have transcribed your letter to Miss Barnwell. I 
thank you, Madam, for your kind remembrance of my 
brother. I intend to show him the whole of our corres- 
pondence ; and I desire your prayers that it may be ac- 
companied with a divine blessing. I intend to write to you 
fronj France by the first opportunity, and am. 
Dear Madam, 

Most affectionately yours, 

EUSEB1A NEVILLE. 



LETTER XXIX. 

From Miss Barmvell to Miss Eusebia Neville* 

MY DEAR EUSEBIA, 

R friend Thomas has just been here, and brought 
your letter to my aunt, which I shall seal, and send by the 
post to-day ; and, as it will be almost night before he calls 
again, I intend to send you a hasty scrawl. And now, 
what shall I say to my dear friend ? As she has such a de- 
sire to see her brother, I cannot importune her not to go 
this journey ; but I hope she will take care that she be not 
trapanned into a nunnery. You may assure your eif, that, 
if you are obliged to escape in consequence of violence be- 
ing offered to your inclination, Mrs. Worthington will re- 



130 



ceive you as kindly as if she were your mother ; nay, more 
so lhan If that were the case, and you were a stranger to 
Jesus Christ. 

What you heard about my ra : 
:rue, My father and she have been at home these three 
days. She comforts herself by saying, thai s.;e thinks she 
understands cards as well as most people, but no one has 
always luck alike ; and the worse luck now, the better 
another time. My father said some time past, that when 
he was young* he had often played deeply himself; but 
that he generally found cause to repent it. To this my 
mother replied, that she abhorred playing far paltry sums, 
because there was no chance then of gaining any thing : 
besides, she could not bear any thing that was mean and 
low-lived. 

I. who know my father much better than she aces, can 
perceive he is chagrined, and truly net without reason ; 
far what she has laid cut in lace, rufaes. head -dresses, 
gowns, and aprons, since she has been married, is amaz- 
ing. Though my father has a pretty estate, yet, as he 
keens what is called a noble house, he has always spent 
Ids income j so that I cannot say but I have been a 
little uneasy lest he should be brought to poverty. lie has 
loved me, though he slights me now : it would grieve me, 
therefore, to see it. because I know how unable he would 
be to bear it. 

In reccing what my aunt has written on the subject of 
temperance, I reflected with pleasure, that it will diminish 
our anxiety about what we shall eat. and what we snail 
drink, and wherewithal we shall be clothed, when we 
know how little will supply our real wants. In the pre- 
sent age an expensive way of living almost universally pre- 
vails ; it is as if every one strove in dress, in high living, 
and in furniture, to exceed his neighbour. When Chris- 
tians are carried away by this torrent, they are not only 
guiltv of a sinful compliance with the manners of the 
world, but they pierce themselves through with many 
sorrows, In order to acquire the means of supporting 



181 

this vain expense, either an immoderate portion of their 
time is occupied, and their minds are devoured by corrod- 
ing cares ; or they engage in undertakings too great for 
their capital, bring themselves to ruin, and cause religion 
to be evil spoken of on their account. Contentment with 
mean food and clothing either prevents, or diminishes 
anxiety ; bears up the mind against fear of loss ; and 
keeps it from immoderate sorrow when losses are sustain- 
ed. When I consider these things, I envy the simplicity 
of the patriarchal age. 

If you have time and opportunity, any thing which drops 
from the pen of my Eusebia will exceedingly gratify her 
Miranda. I know I need say no more, if there be a possi- 
bility. 

If your brother should inquire about his old playfellow, 
pray give my kind respects to him. I shall not cease to 
pray for your safe and speedy return. 

Since I wrote the above, Mr. Henry Clifford called and 
dined with us ; and he is at our house now. His principal 
conversation has been about what he calls the folly of his son ; 
who, he says, before he went to Ireland, was always either 
in his closet, or walking alone in the fields. My father 
said, he believed half the world would go mad. There is 
a time, added he, for all things. Undoubtedly people 
ought to be religious ; that is, they ought to go to church, 
once at least, on a Sunday, unless any thing extraordinary 
prevent. The better sort ought to do so, if it were only 
to set an example to the lower class, who might in a great 
measure be kept from poaching, if they could be induced 
to attend divine service. 

Mr. Clifford was of opinion, that preaching had never 
done any good to the morals of mankind, and that the 
wuipping post and the pillory were the best instructors. 
Pray what is your opinion, Miss Baraweli ? cried he. 

I replied, that rewards and punishments were certainly 
powerful stimulants to action ; but that even whipping- 
posts and pillories would have but little effect, if people did 
not believe there were any such things. This is the rea- 

Q 



182 



on, continued I, that so little regard is paid to the promi- 
ses and threatening in the word of God. Men are willing 
to persuade themselves that they are without foundation. 

I always took you for a reasonable girl, said Mr. Clif- 
ford. Now tell me seriously, Miranda, whether you can 
believe that a good and gracious Being, as every one sup= 
poses God to be, can have the heart to burn poor creatures 
m a furnace of fire, as hot as a baker's oven, during a long 
eternity, for petty offences committed in the space of 
sixty or seventy years ? The crimes and the punishment 
bear no proportion to each other ; so that I do not wonder 
nobody believes them. Such accounts do violence to rea^ 
son. 

Permit me, Sir, to say, replied I, that you err, not know- 
ing the Scriptures. The wicked will indeed be destroyed, 
with an everlasting destruction, from the presence of the 
Lord ; which destruction is compared to unquenchable 
nre, because God will never be reconciled to them. But 
the whole of divine revelation shows, that sinners will be 
punished with few or many stripes, in an exact proportion 
to their sins, You call the aggravated rebellions of men 
against their maker, petty offences. But if you, Sir, should 
be unhappy enough to bear the just punishment of your 
transgressions, which I fear will be the case, you may then 
entertain different thoughts concerning your crimes. 

Do you seriously then believe, cried he, several of the 
tales related in the Old Testament, such as Samson's car- 
rying the gates of Gaza, and throwing down a temple of 
the Philistines ? 

I will answer this question, Sir, replied I, by asking you 
another. Can you conceive in what manner the eye in- 
forms the soul of the colour and figure of bodies at a great 
distance, and of the beauties of creation around us ; or how 
the ear was so exquisitely contrived, as to distinguish ten 
thousand different vibrations of air from each other ? Can 
you tell me who poised the earth so exactly as to make it 
hang upon nothing; and also who put it in motion, and 
continued that motion with such regularity for nearly six 



183 



thousand years ? Nay, Sir, if you can tell me who enabled 
you to lift a straw, I will tell you who enabled Samson to 
carry the gates of Gaza, and to throw down the temple of 
D igon. Know, Sir, that almost every thing under the 
Old Testament dispensation was intended to point out the 
Messiah to the Jews, and to confirm the faith of the Xew- 
Testament church. Samson was a Nazarite, or one dedi- 
cated to the service of God from his birth ; and was con- 
tinually at war with the enemies of God's people, like him 
of whom he was the type ; he therefore did nothing more 
to the gates of Gaza, than the Redeemer has done to the 
gates of hell. If you ask by what means this and other 
things were effected ; I answer, by the power of God If 
you say it was very wonderful, I say so too ; yet not more 
wonderful than the sun's rising this morning. But this 
last wonder has been so often repeated, that people cease 
to wonder. 

Here my father cried out, that he had heard so much of 
this kind of stuff, that he was surfeited. It is a pity, said 
my mother, but that Miss Barnwell had worn men's clothes, 
like the Chevalier d'Eon ; she w r ould have made an excel- 
lent soldier of the black regiment. This pitiful witticism 
produced a general laugh. Mr. Clifford said, he supposed 
his booby was of my way of thinking. But if you were to 
change your mind, Miranda, added he, I believe it would 
be too late for you to think of being my daughter. By 
some hints which he has now and then dropped, he seems 
to be over head and ears in love with a lady whom you 
know. According to him, Eusebia Neville has so many 
perfections, that none are left for the rest cf her sex.— 
We do not know, my dearest friend, what is the design 01 
Providence. Mr. Charles Clifford, peradventure, is raised 
up by the wise Disposer of ail events to be a blessing to 
my friend. I sincerely pray, both for his own sake and 
yours, that that may be the case. 

Our friend Thomas tells me you look very pale and 
thin, which I am exceedingly sorry to hear ; as the loss oi* 



134 



so excellent a friend would be a severe stroke to me, 

though she, I doubt not, would be an infinite gamer. 

I am, my dear Eusebia, 
Most sincerely yours, 

MIRANDA BARNWELL. 



LETTER XXX, 



From Miss Eusebia Xeville to Miss Barnwell. 

MY DEAR MIRANDA, 

Ou R friend Thomas found an opportunity to give me 
your letter the day after he received it ; but I have been 
so much employed in transcribing, in packing up my 
clothes, and in attending to other matters, that I have 
scarcely time to write to you before we set off. I entreat 
my friend to unite her prayers with mine that I may be 
kindly received by my brother. But I have learned to 
draw small expectations from that, or indeed from any 
other quarter. My hopes are entirely placed on him who 
can make the wolf dwell with the lamb, cmd the leopard lie 
down with the kid. 

To-morrow, with the divine permission, we shall begin 
our journey. There will be only my father, Signior Al- 
bino, and myself, beside the footman. My sister has been 
very poorly with a cold for this week past, and the journey 
would have been put off a little time on her account ; but 
she desired it might not, as she should hear how her bro- 
ther did, with which she should endeavour to satisfy her- 
self. She also told my father, that she dreaded crossing 
the sea, and the more so as the time approached. I ara 
not sorry my sister does not go ; for I am obliged to con- 
less, that she has taken every method to show her unkind- 
ness to me, on account of my heresy, as she calls it. This 
has grieved me very much, it being a dreadful thing to 



1S5 



persecute the servants of Christ. We may well say con 
cerning such, that they know not what they do. It is ?, 
hard matter to make war with him out of whose mouth 
goes a two-edged sword. It is indeed good to be zealous ; 
but how necessary is it to take care that our zeal be regu- 
lated by knowledge. 

You may depend upon hearing from me as soon as pos- 
sible. I shall direct my letters to Mrs. Worthington ; but 
you must not expect them to be very long. I am not 
afraid to cross the water. I consider that there is an ap- 
pointed time to man upon earth, and that his days are like 
the days of a hireling. Whether the transition from time 
to eternity take place by sea or land, is in my esteem a mat- 
ter of small importance. 

You would wonder if I were to take no notice of what 
you said about Mr. Charles Clifford. I can only observe, 
that, if he is really become a Christian, I am exceedingly 
glad for his sake. My mind is too much employed about 
other things to think of marrying or being given in mar- 
riage. 

It would have given me singular pleasure to see my 
dear Miranda before I undertook this long journey : but as 
I cannot obtain that satisfaction without giving my friends 
uneasiness, it may be prudent to defer it to some happier 
period. Before you receive this, I shall, if God permit, 
be on the road to St. Omer's. 

Commending you to the Father of mercies, I am, with 
sincere respect, 

My dear friend, 

Yours most affectionately, 
EUSEBIA NEVILLE 



Q 2 



LETTER XXXI. 

From Miss Barnwell to Mrs, Worthingtcn. 

DEAR MADAM, 

0 JR dear Eusebia set off on Monday last to see her bro- 
ther, in the company of her father, Signior Albino, and 
the footman. I am under no apprehension that they will 
be able to persuade her to take the veil ; and with regard 
to force, I am persuaded her father is a person of too much 
honour and veracity to think of breaking* his word. 

The day after she set off, a letter was brought me by 
Thomas Livingstone. I was walking in the closes which 
border on the lane leading towards the Abbey, and saw the 
good man through the hedge, mounted on his ass, and 
coming toward the Hall. I called to him, and found, as 

1 expected, that he had a letter for me. 

Ah, Thomas, cried I, is it not some mortification to you, 
who have seen better days, or at least more affluent, to ride 
on an animal which the world have agreed to account dis- 
reputable ? 

Miss, replied he, stroking the neck of his beast, a Chris- 
tian would seldom err, if, in most things, he determined to 
go. counter to the judgment of the multitude. For my 
part, I esteem the lion, the elephant, the horse, and even 
the ox, less honourable than the despised ass. The ass has 
been ennobled beyond all other creatures by him who is 
the fountain of honour. The Lord of glory made his pub- 
lic entry into his kingdom here below upon this humble 
animal. He is on this account esteemed by Christians to 
be superior in dignity to the whole brute creation besides, 
notwithstanding he is despised by mankind in general ; who, 
aspiring after grand and magnificent things, are not dis- 
posed to take the yoke, and to follow the example of the 
lowly Jesus. 

Well, Thomas, said I. but you would have some regard 
paid to decorum. If : for instance? you were in a state of 



affluence, you would rather be ashamed of your honest 
companion, would you not ? 

I shall never have the trial, Miss, answered he ; but cer- 
tainly were I capable of being affected with shame on such 
an account, I should have just reason to be ashamed No, 
I hope I shall never think it beneath me to ride upon the 
same kind of creature which my Lord and master rode 
upon. With regard to the decorum you speak of, Chris- 
tians ought to remember that the customs of the people 
are vain. The fashionable and extravagant vices of the 
day are exceedingly alarming ; and if the destruction of 
Sodom was owing to pride, idleness, and fulness of bread, 
we have reason to believe that the same cause will pro- 
duce the same effect in this kingdom. Besides, you will 
find, my dear friend, that mankind in general will as much 
despise those whom the Redeemer chooses out of the 
world, as they possibly can despise the beast he rode on. 
Christians are no more scandalized at the ass on which he 
rode, than at the manger which first received him, the 
cross on which he expired, or his subsisting on the alms 
of his pious followers. We shall be happy in proportion 
as our minds are brought to be meek and lowly, and to re- 
semble the Lamb of God. The proud man is a self-tor- 
mentor. If he think himself overlooked, or disregarded, 
it is more than he can bear. But the Christian expects no 
better treatment : and when he is despised, and his name 
is cast out as evil, for the sake of Jesus, he bears it pa- 
tiently, and even joyfully, knowing that his reward is great 
in heaven. 

I told my kind instructor, that I approved of all he had 
said. And. indeed, my dear aunt, if you knew but half 
the unkind treatment I have met with, you would not think 
these observations improperly timed. I was loath to part 
with Thomas ; for how different is his conversation from 
that which I hear at home, where I am afraid the most 
High is never thought of from one week's end to another, 
nor mentioned except in a vain and too frequently in a 
blasphemous manner. 



188 

I have been hesitating whether I had best teli my aunt, 
that, for these four days past, I have lived in the kitchen 
with the servants, and have not been suffered to come into 
my father's presence. I expect that he will never suffer 
me to come near him any more. 

I have already told you, that I have frequently had an op- 
portunity of hearing Mr. Lowe. Mr. Law heard of it t 
and told my father that he was surprised at his letting me 
associate with such poor people. He came home exceed- 
ingly angry, and told me that he never thought he should 
bring up a child to be guilty of any thing so mean. He 
added that he was going to make his will that afternoon? 
and* unless I promised never to enter a meeting again, 
would leave me only a shilling ; and that if I continued to 
put myself upon a level with such a rabble, I must not 
think of being his companion ; for he knew his rank and 
station in life better than to be an associate of those who 
had no virtuous pride, and who manifested a meanness of 
spirit which placed them beneath contempt. 

I could not speak for weeping. My father exclaimed 
two or three times, Well, Madam, am I to expect an an- 
swer ? At this moment Mrs. Barnwell came in, and said, 
that she always thought obedience to parents was a capi- 
tal article of religion. Indeed, Madam, I can perceive 
that she does every thing in a covert manner to set my 
father against me. I replied, that my father was sufficient- 
ly angry without her saying any thing to enrage him. 
Upon this she flew into a passion, and said that Mr. Barn- 
well was too good natured by half ; that he had humoured 
me till I was headstrong ; that she would care no more 
about me ; and that he must take it for his pains. This 
exasperated him still more ; and he took an oath, that, un- 
less I would that minute promise that 1 would never enter 
a meeting again, I should never eat nor drink any more in 
his presence, nor presume to come into his company. I 
begged him to consider, that his requiring such a promise 
%vas laying me under a necessity of disobeying him. I 
understand you, Madam, said he ; I beg you to walk down 



189 



among tiie servants ; they are much too good company for 
such as you. As soon as my father had said this, I was 
taken by the arm and put out of the parlour, and the door 
was clupped upon me. I went up into my study and wept ; 
but my grief was least of all for myself. My dear parent 
thinks he is doing right : my knowledge that he does wrong 
is that which troubles me. 

1 svent down toward evening, and drank tea with the 
maids, who could not help weeping for me. Nancy White 
was so overcome with grief that she wept aloud ; nor could 
she for a great while be pacified The feelings of the low- 
er class of mankind are, I believe, in general, more ten- 
der than people in a higher station imagine ; and I assure 
you, Madam, the artless, sympathetic friendship of these 
poor girls was a welcome alleviation of my grief But, 
above all, the consolation I received while I was before the 
throne of grace I am unable to express. 

I earnestly pray that these things may not be laid to the 
charge of my dear parent, who knows not what he is do- 
ing. Before I went to the meeting I had no comfort. 
Then my acting in a different manner from what I had 
been wont to do was an unpardonable crime. Therefore I 
entreated my father before I went to hear Mr. Lowe, that 
he would permit me to go and live with you. I further 
said, that I should think it no hardship to become a ser- 
vant, or to do any thing that my conscience would allow, 
if it would give him content. To this he replied, that he 
would agree to my last proposal with all his heart, were 
not his own honour concerned, seeing I was a beggar in 
nature, and originally designed for nothing better than 
servitude. 

I should not, for my parent's sake, have disclosed these 
particulars even to you. But this last step will publish 
every thing to the world, at whose bar I shall be condemn- 
ed : nor does this displease me ; for I do not desire to be 
justified at the expense of my father. If God, my con- 
science, and you, Madam, approve of what I do, it is 
enough. Let not my dear aunt trouble herself. I do not 



l$6 

account these strange things. I have inclosed the letter 
of our friend, and my companion in affliction, and am. 
Dear Madam, 

Your dutiful niece, 

MIRANDA BARNWELL, 



LETTER XXXII. 

From Mrs. Worthington to Miss Bzrraveiu 

HY DEAR CHILD, 

I HAVE received a letter from our excellent friend, 
which I shall immediately transmit to you. You will re- 
joice with me to hear that she arrived safe at St. Omer's ; 
and your joy will he greatly increased by the pleasing in- 
formation that her brother is a protestant. In what a won- 
derful and sovereign manner does our heavenly Father 
dispense his favours ! Mr. Neville sent his son into a po- 
pish country, that there might be no possibility of his be- 
ing poisoned with heretical notions, as he terms the pure 
gospel of Christ: but it is impossible to counteract the 
will of Him, who came to seek as well as to save that 
, which was lost. 

Your narration, my dear child, of the cruel treatment 
which you have received, has given me much uneasiness. 
It is no more) however, than we had reason to expect. 
The kingdom of heaven must be entered through great 
tribulation; The world, the flesh, and the devil, are ene- 
mies with which a Christian is never at peace- We must, 
therefore, put on the armour of God, and fight the good 
fight of faith to the end of our course. 

You and I, Miranda, have no reason to complain. We 
might have been called to resist unto blood, striving against 
sin. Besides, you are always welcome to partake with 
me, — I was going to say of my little pittance ; but, I 
thank God, more^ than enough remains for you, and my. 



self, and our dear Eusebia, if Providence should place her 
under my protection. 

I received much pleasure from your account of Thomas 
and his ass. A humble mind is of itself a portion ; for it 
teaches its possessors to be content in the lowest stations, 
A Christian cannot think himself ignobly mounted, if he 
ride as well as his divine master. Nor do I doubt but the 
cottage of your friend pleases him, from the consideration 
that it is as good as the stable which received the Lord of 
glory. The world, and the things of the world, are the 
one thing needful with worldly men. Riches, honour, 
sumptuous houses, gay clothes, and costly viands, afford 
them all their happiness ; and a poor happiness it is. — 
When we know the value of the divine favour, how many 
things are there that we can do without ! It is more than 
probable, my child, that a very great share of the things 
of time will never be your portion : but this you ought to 
consider as a matter of small importance. The fewer 
talents of this kind are committed to your trust, for the 
fewer you will be accountable. If the children of God, 
who are rich in this world, were sufficiently to consider 
that the time is coming when they must give an account 
of their stewardship, it would somewhat abate their eager- 
ness in accumulating transitory trifles. I can only add, 
my dear niece, that I continue 

Your affectionate aunt, 

MARY WORTHINGTON. 



LETTER XXXIII. 

From Miss Eusebia JWviile to Mrs, Worihington, 

BEAR MADAM, 

JTiiROUGH the kind providence of God my friends 
und I arrived at St. Omer's yesterday about noon. How 
thankful ought I to be to the Father of mercies for the 



192 



goodness with which he has followed me from my birth to 
this moment. 

The pleasure I promised myself from seeing my dear 
brother was mixed with apprehension that he would re- 
proach me on account of my supposed heresy ; but I have 
been happily and unexpectedly disappointed. Could you 
have thought that my brother would come to the know- 
ledge of salvation by Jesus Christ in the French Nether- 
lands ? Yet such is the happy case : happy for me ; but in- 
finitely more so for him. With what joy did 1 hear him 
speak the first time we were by ourselves I The exuberant 
pleasure deprived me of speech ; and I could only express 
my delight by the tears which I shed while he pressed me 
to his bosom. 

He observed, it would not be prudent to disclose his be- 
ing a protestant, till we arrived in England ; and that in 
the meantime he would act the part of a mediator, as far 
as he could do it with propriety. 

I mentioned my father's promise not to force me into a 
convent. 

Ah, my dear sister, cried he, don't you recollect that 
no faith is to be kept with heretics to the prejudice of the 
church ? 

I perceive he is fearful that I shall meet with foul play. 
But, as he will undoubtedly be in the secret if any thing of 
that kind shall be attempted, I hope, with the divine bles- 
sing, to be preserved. 

When I intimated my surprise at his being able to keep 
it a secret so long (for he has been a protestant more than 
a twelvemonth) he replied, that apparently to have no re- 
ligion was a trifling sin in a catholic country ; and that his 
few acquaintance supposed this to be his case. As they 
knew he was fond of botany, they imagined he spent all the 
time he could spare from his studies in cultivating that 
pleasing science. And indeed it was in one of his botani- 
cal excursions that he providentially met with a person, in 
whose commendation he cannot sufficiently express him- 
self. All that I at present know of him is, that he lives at 



Gassel; and that in him are united the Christian 
friend, the schol r, and the gentleman. But I must leave 
for a while this pleasing subject, as Miss Barnwell made 
me promise to give her a narrative of my voyage. 

On Tuesday, the seventh of May, at eleven o'clock in 
the forenoon, we embarked at Gravesend, on board the 
Industry, Captain Williams, bound for Calais. As we 
3ailed down the river, which in this part widens very rapidly, 
a seafaring gentleman endeavoured to make the time pass 
agreeably by telling diverting stories, in which manner he 
said they spend many of their leisure hours in long voya- 
ges. This is a true picture of the world, who, as they sail 
down the stream of time, take every method to shorten 
the precious moments, till the voyage of life is over. 

In the afternoon we met a fishing vessel, that told our 
captain it was blowing weather at sea ; on which account, 
in the evening, he cast anchor at Holy-haven, The next 
morning, the wind continuing rough, I began to be sick; 
nor were my father and Signior Albino much better. How- 
ever, I kept above deck, and was pleased with the sight of 
numerous vessels. The sea-gulls also cleaving the air, 
and the porpoises sporting in the water, afforded me an 
entertainment as agreeable as it was new. How great is 
that Being who has confined this turbulent element, this 
amazing world of waters, as with bars and doors, and has 
said. Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further. The ocean 
is truly a majestic and awful part of the works of God. 
How happy to have Him for our Father, who measureth 
the waters in the hollow of his hand ! Methinks seafaring 
people, above all others, should live in the constant view 
of eternity; since the starting of a plank, or a thousand 
unforeseen accidents, may in one moment usher them in- 
to the world of spirits. I pray for myself, and for every 
other servant of Jesus, that we may never spend one day 
in such a manner as would give us a reluctance to have it 
for our dying day. It becomes us to be alarmed, lest we 
should be off our watch and in a slumbering disposition 
when our Lord shall come. They who are not habitually 

R 



194 

preparing to receive him, cannot expect to hear the -mid- 
night cry with composure, even if they are among those 
who will be permitted to enter with the Bridegroom, and 
to partake of the marriage-supper. 

On Wednesday nothing important occurred. Upon the 
approach of night the wind died away, and we cast anchor 
opposite to Kingsgate on the Isle of Thanet. I was upon 
deck early enough next morning to see the sun rise from 
his watery bed. The heavens were serene : there was a 
gentle breeze ; and every thing appeared awfully grand, 
especially to me, who had not before seen this reservoir 
of waters. Presently we beheld the stupendous cliffs of 
Dover, which serve as a barrier to the boisterous element. 
We stretched over to Calais, where we arrived about ele- 
ven o'clock. Before we could set our feet on shore, we 
were accosted by waiters belonging to the inns, who each 
extolled their different houses. But our captain, who was 
exceedingly civil, having recommended to us the Bras d'Or, 
w T e had previously concluded to put up at that inn. 

We had not been long in our room, before a capuchin- 
friar, who wore sandals, and was without stockings, enter- 
ed, and presented us with a paper written in bad English, 
purporting that his monastery, having neither lands nor 
livings, subsisted on the charity of the well-disposed The 
friar, who had no reason to be displeased with his recep- 
tion, took us to see his monastery. After locking us in, 
he conducted us through several rooms, in which were 
various paintings, either of Scripture history, or of per- 
sons of his order. In the sacristy were a crucifix adorned 
with jewels, a golden chaiice, and many other baubles. 
The father easily perceived me to be a heretic, by my 
taking little or no notice of his relics and other trumpery* 
He looked at me, whispered to father Albino, and shrug* 
ged up his shoulders. After having shown us the garden 
belonging to his monastery, which contained nothing 
worth describing, he let us through the garden-gate into 
the parade, where the soldiers were exercising. 

Calais is a large town, with tolerably good .streets. But 



I shall not attempt to describe a place which has already 
been described by many others much more able to do it 
than myself. We stopped all night, and set out in the 
morning for St. Omer's, where we arrived about noon. 
The country through which we passed was unenclosed ; 
yet all of it was under culture, which surprised me* The 
crops in general w r ere good, and consisted chiefly of wheat, 
barley, and coleseed ; the last of which composes at least 
one third of the whole, and is now in flower. I felt a 
pleasing sensation when we came to the avenue which 
leads into St, Omer's, that being the place where my 
brother told us in his letter that he spent many of his 
leisure hours. I looked for him in vain \ but a few mi- 
nutes brought us to our inn, the Poste Royalle. 

With this account of my journey I must finish my let- 
ter. I cannot describe the joy of my father at the sight of 
his son after two years' absence. My own was not less 
sincere ; though the supposed difference in our senti- 
ments abated the satisfaction I should otherwise have re- 
ceived from meeting with so dear a friend. How happy 
was my disappointment. He was exceedingly glad to 
hear that the gay and sprightly Miss Barnwell was a pil- 
grim to the heavenly city ; and he desired me to give his 
kind respects to my excellent friend, and to all who love 
the Lord Jesus Christ, among whom he did not forget 
Mrs. Worthington nor our friend Livingstone and his 
wife. I unite with him in the best wishes for the happi- 
ness of all my friends, and continue, 
Dear Madam, 

Yours most sincerely, 

EUSEBIA NEVILLE 



19S 



LETTER XXXIV. 

From Miss Barnwell to Mrs. Worthingtoiu 

DEAR MADAM, 

TTrlE day after my receipt of your kind letter, enclosing 
©ne from our dear Eusebia, for the contents of which we 
have reason to adore the kind providence of God, one of 
Mr. Neville's men came to our house with a letter for me 
from Miss Neville, and brought a single horse chaise with 
him The letter was to let me know she was very unwell, 
and to beg I w^ould come over in the chuise she had sent, 
or. if I could not come directly, that I would let the man 
trait till I could. I was surprised. She and I had been 
as intimate as sisters, and a similarity of temper had ren- 
dered us very agreeable to each other. But 1 thought 
that my corresponding with her sister was a sin never to 
be forgiven. 

I should have first told you, Madam, that about a week 
past Mr. Friend and his wife and daughter came to pay us a 
visit. I say us, as if I were a part of the family, which is 
hardly the case. My mother sent word that I might come 
up into the parlour as usual. Upon receiving this mes- 
sage my resentment began to arise, it being obvious she 
was afraid it should be known by Mr. Friend and his family 
in what manner I w ? as treated. But I immediately per- 
ceived it was a temptation of Satan. Pride, thought I, 
does not become a servant of Jesus. I therefore put on as 
cheerful an appearanee as I could, and went up stairs to 
Mrs. Friend and her daughter, Mr. Friend being gone to 
the river to my father, who was fishing. 

When my father came home, he took no notice of my 
being in the parlour ; and after our visitors were gone, I 
thought it would be imprudent to return to the kitchen, 
unless I was ordered to do so : therefore I continued where 
I was. Bits. Barnwell told one of the maids, that she did 



197 

not think I would have come up, but she supposed I was 
pretty well humbled. 

On receiving Miss Neville's letter, I gave it to my fa- 
ther, and asked him what his pleasure was. My pleasure, 
girl ? said he, pray do as you have done hitherto ; that is, 
what you please. 

I have never, Sir, replied I, to my knowledge, disobeyed 
you in my life, and I trust never shall, except where my 
soul would be endangered by my compliance 

My father laughed and said he was a Turk in this res- 
pect : he scarcely thought a woman had any soul. How- 
ever, continued he, as Miss Neville has sent for you, and 
the family is out, I would advise you to go. I thanked him, 
and set off in less than an hour. 

All the way I went I puzzled myself to no purpose in 
thinking what Miss Neville could want me for. When I 
arrived in the court-yard, she came out, and received me 
very kindly ; but I perceived that her eyes were red with 
weeping. It immediately came into my mind that my 
dear Eusebia was dead, and I hastily asked her if that was 
not the case. She fell upon my neck and wept, and said, 
as soon as she could speak, O no, my dear sister is alive, 
and I thank God she is : it is I who am dead. 

We went into the little parlour. I could not tell what 
to think. I was apprehensive that she was disordered in 
her senses. She sat down by me, and took hold of my 
hand. Oh my dear friend, said she, what must I do ? I 
fear the earth will open and swallow me up. What is the 
matter Miss Neville ? said I, pray tell me ; and if I can 5 al- 
leviate your misery, nothing shall be wanting that I can do. 
O no, cried she, 1 fear you can do me no good. I have 
sinned against God ; I have injured my dear sister. O 
Miranda, she and you will be angels in heaven, praising 
God, when 1 shall be howling in hell ! 

I was exceedingly affected, and remembered the worm- 
wood and the gall. Well may the wise man say, The* spi- 
rit of a man will sustain his infirmity* but a wounded spirit 
who can bear ? When the arrows of the Almighty wound 

R 2 



1&8 

a sinner, no one can allay the anguish but the great Physi- 
cian of souls. 

I endeavoured to pacify her, by showing that the blood 
of Jesus Christ is sufficient to cleanse from all sin ; and 
that it is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, 
that he came into the world to save sinners, of whom the 
apostle Paul, who had been the bloody persecutor of Christ 
in his followers, styled himself the chief. Her sin in per- 
secuting her sister, I told her, was indeed exceedingly 
heinous. Yes. she said, it was exactly parallel to Cain's 
persecuting Abel. If she had been suffered to proceed, I 
replied, it undoubtedly would have been so ; but I hoped, 
that, as Ananias was sent to Saul for good, and Peter to 
Cornelius, so her Fending for me was of God. I added, 
that my susprise and my joy were equally great, to find her 
sentiments so different from what they had been ; and that 
as the Lord had stopped her in her career as he did Saul, 
I hoped she, like him, would be a monument of divine 
mercy. 

I then desired her to tell me how this great change had 
been effected. 

My dear sister, replied she, left cdl the letters which had 
passed between Mrs. Worthington, and you, and herself, 
together with the rough draughts of her own letters, tied 
together, in her closet, and did not take the key with her. 
As soon as I saw them, I determined to read them careful- 
ly, and to note clown every error, and write an answer to it, 
which I thought would employ my leisure hours in my fa- 
ther's absence. I had not read many letters before I per- 
ceived, that in persecuting my sister, I had been persecut- 
ing an angel of God. The spirit that brei thed in every 
line, convinced me that I had known nothing of Christiani- 
ty but the name ; and that I no more resembled the 
Son of God, than his murderers did. I determined to read 
them through ; in doing which I found that the sentiments 
€f Mrs. Worthington and my sister and you were not only 
exactly alike, but that God had given you the gentleness 
and meekness of lambs, while I had the fierceness and 



199 

cruelty of a wolf. Besides, after reading your correspon- 
dence, I had no doubt but it was the will of God, that 
Christians should learn their religion from the Scriptures, 
to which divine volumes I had been too great a stranger. 

I told Miss Neville that this was not to be wondered at ; 
that it was not merely the case with the members of the 
church of Home, but also with the generality of protestants, 
all unbelievers being as ignorant of the truth as she, and 
frequently possessing as much enmity against the children 
of God as she had manifested toward her sister. — Indeed, 
madam, she feels so much compunction on account of her 
guilt, that I find it necessary to console her with the pre- 
cious declarations of mercy made to sinners in the gospel, 
lest she should be swallowed up with overmuch sorrow. 

On reading her sister's letter, she said she was glad that 
her brother had left a religion which encouraged its mem- 
bers to propagate it by fire and sword. O Miranda, added 
she, how infatuated, how blind have I been ! Can any pro- 
position be plainer than this, that to be a Christian is to be 
like Christ ; to have the same spirit and disposition with 
him ; to embrace those truths which he delivered ; and to 
be obedient to all his commands ? I should imagine, did I 
not know the contrary by sad experience, that no one could 
be so ignorant as to suppose that the merciful Redeemer 
permitted his followers to injure any person either in word 
or deed. 

I replied, that she was undoubtedly right ; and that al- 
though God did indeed compel sinners to come in that his 
house might be filled, it was not the compulsion of racks 
and gibbets. They are compelled, said I, by his Spirit and 
truth, to lay down their arms with which they fought 
against him, and to become his willing people, as I hope, 
my dear Maria, is now your own case. 

Ah, Miss Barnwell, cried she, weeping, you have spoken 
many consoling things concerning the mercy of God, and 
I believe they are true, and that all those will receive the 
heavenly inheritance for whom it was intended : but my 
sins are so numerous and so aggravated, that I of all the 



200 



persons in the world have the least reason to believe myself 
one of the elect. 

That you are one of the elect, replied I, is what you 
are not commanded to believe, it not being the subject of 
Revelation. You are exhorted to believe that which is 
true, whether you believe it or not, namely, that Jesus is 
the Christ, the Son of God, and the only Saviour of sin- 
ners. 

I w r as convinced, cried she, before I had finished reading 
Mrs. Worthington's and your correspondence with my sis- 
ter, that nothing can save a guilty sinner but the obedience 
and death of the Son of God ; and that penances and pil- 
grimages, pardons and indulgences, the merit of good 
works, and every other foundation of hope, were false re- 
fuges. 

You saw them in their proper colours, replied L And 
protestants are no more at a loss than catholics in substitut- 
ing something to depend upon in the room of the perfect 
work of the Son of God. How specious soever this some- 
thing may seem, its intrinsic value is no greater than that 
of popish pardons and pilgrimages. The songs of the re- 
deemed will be addressed to him that loved them, and 
washed them from their sins in his own blood. They will 
with one consent lay their crowns at his feet, and give him 
the honour of his achievements. To rob the Redeemer of 
his glory, or to weaken our obligations to love him, is not 
our interest ;. since to love God perfectly is that which will 
constitute the happiness of angels and saints to all eternity. 
The angels who kept their first estate will adore him who 
graciously preserved them from the apostacy of Satan, and 
his companions in rebellion ; and redeemed men will have 
to praise him for an act of kindness, in its nature somewhat 
similar, but of much greater magnitude. You tell me, 
Miss Neville, that you are convinced of this momentous 
truth, and yet fear you are not one of the elect. If you 
sincerely believe the things related by the apostles con- 
cerning the Son of God, which by way of eminence are 
called the truth; your fears are now as groundless as your 



201 



hopes were before presumptuous. The promises of the 
gospel, though not made to this or that person by name* 
are made to all who believe what God has revealed con- 
cerning his Son. 

Very true, answered she : but of those who received 
the seed of the word, there was only one kind that continu- 
ed in the truth and brought forth fruit. I replied, that 
this parable was spoken by our Saviour, that his children 
might be cautious, lest, a promise being left them of en- 
tering into his rest, any of them should even 30 much as 
seem to come short of it ; and also to remind us that 
though we arc aarcd by mere mercy, yet it is in such a 
way as will not dispense with our labouring to make our 
calling and election sure, or with keeping our bodies under 
lest we should be disapproved. 

My friend, said she, I beg you will pray for me, that I 
may lie at the footstool of the Redeemer, from which place 
I desire never more to remove. The displeasure of my 
father, I suppose, will be exceedingly great. I shall not 
Wonder if he turn me and my dear brother and sister out 
of doors, and sell off all, and go to live in a catholic country 
with Signior Albino. But these are little things. Oh, 
how little, when compared with the loss ©f the divine fa- 
vour ! The sense I have already had of the divine displea- 
sure is such, that I am convinced no evil will bear to be 
compared with the wrath of an offended God. 

Since I wrote the above, Miss Neville, at my request, 
sent for our friend Thomas Livingstone, to whom the 
change which had taken place in her gave very great joy. 
The good man answered every question she put to him 
very pertinently. The principal were concerning election, 
and the unpardonable sin, which she feared she had com- 
mitted. Miss Neville unites in kind respects to you* 
Yrith, 

Dear Madam, 
Your dutiful and 
Affectionate Niece, 

MIRANDA BARNWELL? 



MM 

LETTER XXXV. 

»om Mrs. Worthington to Miss Neville* 

MY DEAR MISS NEVILLE, 

T 

J- HAV E received a letter from my niece, which was as 
%velcomeas it was unexpected* I may truly say concerning 
you, as the Lord said concerning Jerusalem by the prophet 
Zechariah 7 Is -not thi& a brand f ducked out of the Jire ? The 
conversion of one sinner is of much greater importance 
than the temporal concerns of all the empires and king- 
doms which have existed since the world began ; for, not- 
withstanding many thousands of millions of individuals are 
comprehended in this account, yet were their number ten 
thousand times increased, their temporal happiness or mi- 
sery would bear no proportion to the eternal happiness or 
misery of one of the descendants of Adam. To be deliver- 
ed from the wrath to come, is a thought which must over- 
whelm the capacities of the cherubim and seraphim, who 
behold the face of the infinite I AM. But the very little 
they know is more than sufficient to fill that vast and happy 
assembly with joy at the conversion of a sinner. 

The kingdom of Satan is a kingdom of error \ and all 
his subjects, at the very time they think themselves the 
most wise, are immersed in ignorance and folly The 
minds of them who believe not are blinded by the god of 
this world. In bringing us to a right mind, God shines 
upon us with the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, 
and enlightens the eyes of our understanding : he causes us 
to discern those things to which we were before strangers, 
and to love those things which we before hated. I hope 
that this divine change has taken place in you ; that you 
are now convinced that you are a perishing sinner ; and 
that you have fled for refuge to Christ as the only Saviour. 
The state of man by nature, and salvation by Jesus Christ, 
are the leading topics in the correspondence between your 
sister, my niece, and myself. And I wish you ever to re- 



203 

member, that a morality, of which a right view of ^hese 
things is not the foundation, is a morality of *vhich the iove 
of God makes no part. To know the Redeemer ; to be 
acquainted with his person, the work he came to finish, and 
God's well-pleasedness in him, is a knowledge big with 
every blessing. It is that by which we are transformed 
into the divine image. It produces a pure morality, of 
which the love of God is the basis, and with which eternal 
life is inseparably and very wisely connected. Knowledge 
and faith are twins : they are born together, and can never 
be separated, If God therefore has given you an under- 
standing to know him that is true, you may infer with the 
apostle that you are in him that is true, even in his son Je« 
sus Christ. 

I wish you, my dear young lady, to consider this well, 
It is a common device of Satan to raise a mist before the 
eyes of those who have escaped out of his kingdom, and to 
persuade them that they are not travelling in the road to 
Zion. He is a lying spirit, and the author both of vain 
confidence and of unreasonable fear. God will not let 
you pursue your journey to the new Jerusalem, without 
giving you proofs that he has adopted you into his fami- 
ly and that he has given you a right to enter into that 
glorious city. Jesus Christ, it is true, is ascended into 
heaven to prepare mansions for his people ; but he has 
not left them orphans. The Spirit of God is given to 
abide with his church forever; and he now beareth wit- 
ness with our spirit that we are the children of God, by 
making us partakers of that peace and joy, which the world 
can no more understand by any description, than a man 
born blind could understand a lecture on iight and colours. 
To which I will add, that if God has adopted you into his 
family, he has given you a childlike disposition ; you will be 
continually going to him as to your parent ; and " My Fa- 
ther," and u My God," will afford you more comfort than 
all the words in our language besides. They who have 
received this happy privilege, say with Saul after Je- 
had met hin;, Lord, what *mU ihon have rue to do ? The 



204 



direction to be given to such is plain : let them search the 
sacred epistles, and learn in what manner the apostles ex- 
horted their converts to walk so as to please God. If you 
follow the footsteps of those who are gone to glory, in all 
holy obedience, you will thereby not only greatly honour 
God j but also demonstrate that your knowledge is real, 
your faith unfeigned, and your joy such as the world can 
neither give nor take away. 

Your fear that you have committed the unpardonable sin 
is, I am convinced, without foundation. This sin is called, by 
way of eminence, the sin against the holy Ghost, because 
the committers of it, after having in some measure been 
enlightened, and after having tasted the good word of God, 
and the powers of the world to come, have out of regard 
to some present advantage returned to their former way of 
life. Judas was a fearful instance of this kind, as were 
those Jews who could no otherwise excuse their rejection 
of the Messiah than by maliciously insinuating, in opposi- 
tion to their consciences, that his miracles were wrought 
by the power of the devil. Saul the persecutor did not 
commit this sin ; because, notwithstanding he had much 
malice, he had much ignorance ; — nor Peter, when he de- 
nied his master ; for although he had great light, yet he 
had no malice. It is the infinite mercy of God's children, 
that they are so kept by his power as never to be suffered 
to commit this sin. Here the wicked one toucheth them 
not, because they are born of God, and because his seed, 
or his Spirit and truth, remaineth in them. I hope that 
you will never be left to deny the Redeemer in any way ; 
but above all I pray that you may never more be left to hate 
and despise him in his followers, since that would be the 
unpardonable sin now, though it was not so a fortnight 
past. 

The doctrine of election, about which you inquired of 
Thomas Livingstone, is one of the deep things of God, for 
which he has assigned no reason but his sovereign plea* 
sure. That it is true, not only divine revelation, almost 
in every page, but the universal voice of nature proclaims, 



205 



Every creature was brought into being for the glory of 
him who is Lord of all. He in a sovereign manner has 
formed them animate and inanimate, noble or ignoble, with 
or without reason, as seemed good in his sight. We can 
assign no other cause for the creation of noxious insects, 
reptiles, and ravenous beasts, than that it was the pleasure 
of the Sovereign of heaven and earth. This reason will sa- 
tisfy every one who is truly humble. 

If it be asked, wherefore God permitted sin to enter 
into the world, and why he saves some and not ethers from 
that dire calamity ? I can only answer that so it is. The 
reason I know no more, than why some of his creatures 
are toads or serpents, while others are harmless and use- 
ful. Neither can I tell why one great part of the world is 
immersed in paganism, another in Mahometanism, an- 
other in popish darkness, nor why the inhabitants of a 
fourth part, though called protestants, are as ignorant of 
the true God, and as destitute of a well-grounded hope of 
eternal life, as the former. Yet these are facts. It follows, 
that revelation concurs with experience in declaring, that a 
remnant only of Jews and Gentiles was intended to be 
saved ; and that this remnant is composed of those only 
whom the Son of God redeemed from among men. If 
you and I, my dear child, have just ground to believe that 
we are part of this remnant, it becomes us to serve, to love* 
and to bless him who has loved us with an everlasting love, 
and who has distinguished us from thousands on our right 
hand and on our left, who were stones of the same quarry, 
and clay of the same pit with ourselves. 

Since I wrote the above, I have received a letter from 
your sister, which I shall enclose. Poor dear girl, she is 
involved in great difficulties ; but she bears up under them 
like one who has made the Lord her refuge. I shall every 
day impatiently expect her. 

My kind love to my niece, and to Thomas Livingstone 
and his wife. I am with true respect, 
Your sincere friend, 

MARY WORTHINGTON. 

S 



206 



LETTER XXXVI. 

From. Miss Eusebia Neville to Mrs. Worthington. 

DEAR MADAM, 

Through the kind providence of God, I have it in my 
power to say that I am yet on the right side of the walls of 
a convent, notwithstanding the pains which have been ta- 
ken by my father and Signior Albino to gain my consent 
to take the veil, or at least to commence my noviciate. 
With the divine permission, no entreaties shall induce me 
to do any thing which I know to be contrary to the will of 
God. 

The conversion of my clear brother from popery to 
Christianity is a great mercy to rne as well as to him. I 
have all the happiness in his conversation that I could: wish. 
It is a support provided for me by my heavenly Father 
when I most needed it. 

We went yesterday to see the Abbey of St. Berlin. It 
is what some would call a noble structure ; but if its value 
were estimated by its usefulness, a very little money would 
purchase it. It was about eleven o'clock in the forenoon. 
We found the monks at matins, or morning prayers, if 
the repetition of a form of words in concert, with a loud 
noise, and no apparent devotion, can be so called. After 
■we had staid a little while to see this mock-worship, our 
guide took us into the vestry, and showed us such quanti- 
ties of rich vestments as amazed me. They were flower- 
ed with gold and silver, in a very curious manner, and 
with the utmost profusion. We see by this, and by every 
other kind of magnificence which abounds in their church- 
es, how offensive the cross of Christ, and his poverty, are 
to the natural man. We were next shown the sacristy. 
A large pair of folding doors being opened, we beheld a 
quantity of useless wealth, which it would require a vo- 
lume to describe. In general, it consisted of a collection 



207 



of relics, in cases of gold ornamented with jewels, togeth- 
er with a great number of vessels of the same metal. The 
gigantic silver candlesticks, among so much other wealth, 
appeared but like common things. I was sorry to see my 
dear father and Signior Albino take so much notice of these 
vanities, which, as well as every thing else that these spi- 
ritual merchants have gained by trafficking in the souls of 
men, are doomed by the righteous judgment of God to 
come to nought. When my poor sister intended greatly 
to offend me, she used to tell me of the barns in which 
the heretics held their religious assemblies. But I per- 
ceive no impropriety in worshipping him in a barn, who 
made his public entry into his dominions in a stable. I do 
not like these poor, these pitiful things. Upon what bau- 
bles do we set our affections before we are possessed of the 
true riches ! 

After dinner, my father asked me how I liked the Ab- 
bey of St. Benin. Not at all, Sir, replied I ; such great 
wealth and splendour ill become the followers of him who 
had not where to lay his head. 

You seem determined, young lady, said father Albino, 
to find fault with every thing belonging to our holy reli- 
gion : otherwise you might discern, that these noble struc- 
tures, costly jewels, and splendid vestments, were intend- 
ed by the donors to do honour to him who is Lord of lords 
and King of kings. 

Whatever might be the motives, Sir, answered I, of 
those who gave away their wealth for such vain and osten- 
tatious purposes, since they did not do it in obedience to 
the command of Christ, they will not receive a reward. 

Why, child, cried my father, the tabernacle of Moses, 
and the temple of Solomon, which were appropriated to 
divine worship, were as expensive and magnificent as they 
possibly could be made. By analogy, therefore, Christian 
temples ought to be as sumptuous as the circumstances of 
the worshippers will permit. 

The tabernacle and the temple, Sir, replied I, together 
with the whole Jewish economy, were shadows of good 



£08 



things to come. Those places were honoured with the 
sensible presence of Jehovah ; and were intended to pre- 
figure the tabernacling of the Son of God here below, in 
the sinless body and soul which were prepared for his re- 
ception. But the best temple now is the body and soul of 
a Christian, which God sanctifies to be the place of his 
residence. Wherever a few believers are assembled in 
the name of Christ, he is present among them ; and the 
place they meet in, whether a barn or a stable, an upper 
or a lower room, is better ornamented in God's esteem 
than the abbey we have now been surveying. 

The jaundiced eye, cried father Albino, sees every thing 
yell©w ; and with a similar disease is that mind affected, 
which is prejudiced against the good ways of God by ha- 
ving drank of the foul and muddy streams of heresy. 
How could it be possible otherwise for you to prefer a barn 
or a stable, for the worship of God, to a solemn and state- 
ly temple ? Pray, Mr. Wm. Neville, did you ever hear or 
read of any person that was so obstinately bent upon his 
own destruction as this poor deluded girl ? 

Father, replied he, I beg you will excuse me. I must 
again declare that I am determined to take no part in this 
controversy, because I feel myself unequal to the task you 
would impose upon me. If you and my honoured parent 
cannot silence the objections of my dear sister, how can I 
expect to succeed ? 

My father commended my brother for his wisdom and 
prudence ; and observed, that young people, when they 
met with an heretical argument which they could not an- 
swer, were apt to conclude, though not very modestly, 
that it was unanswerable. With regard to you, my child, 
it had been happy for you and me too if you had never 
been born. 

Ah, my dear friend, said father Albino, this young lady 
is a fearful monument of the just displeasure of God, ma- 
nifested against those who give ear to lying vanities, or 
who in any measure depart from the faith once delivered 
to the saints. The common observation, that the best 



'209 

things corrupted are the worst, was never more verified 
than in her. An excellent understanding and a good edu- 
cation are perverted to the dreadful purpose of palliating 
heresy. And the best natural temper (with sorrow I 
speak it) is turned into the gall of asps ; for whenever she 
speaks of the holy religion wherein she was educated, the 
most malicious heretic could never say more disrespectful 
things. The very temples wherein we worship the God 
of our fathers, though the glory of the world, are no bet- 
ter, if you will believe her, than the paltry conventicles of 
mushroom sectaries, many of whom disappear before they 
have been honoured with a name. The faith of the holy 
Roman church was spoken of with admiration throughout 
the world, in the time of the apostles ; and like its tem- 
ples, it continues firm and unmoved to the present hour ; 
nor shall the gates of hell prevail against it. 

It is my earnest wish, Eusebia, said my father, and I 
implore you not to refuse my request, that you will take 
the veil. When you are in the company of the holy sis- 
ters, I have no doubt but their gentle manners, and pious 
conversation, will bring you to a juster way of thinking. 
You will then bless me and my venerable friend for the 
care we have taken of your everlasting interest. 

O my dear father, cried I, (falling upon my knees,) I 
beseech you not to ask your poor child the only thing she 
cannot grant. My friends may come to me ; but I cannot 
go to them. 

Indeed, young lady, said father Albino, if I were your 
parent, I would soon convince you that it is not so impossi- 
ble as you suppose it to be. I know you rely upon his 
promise not to force your inclination ; but I hope he will 
consider, that a rash promise, or even vow, is better broke 
than kept. 

Ah, father, replied I, how oft have I heard you accuse 
the protestants of injustice, in supposing that catholics 
think a breach of faith with heretics no sin. 

And I still accuse them, interrupted he angrily; but 
this is a different case, The promise of my friend that he 

S 2 



210 



would not compel you to renounce your errors, was virtu* 
ally a promise to become an accomplice in your guilt, 
Moreover, if we arc commanded to compel persons to 
come in, that Christ's house may be filled, ought we not 
to compel those to come back who have strayed from the 
good ways of God ? If your father had promised to mur- 
der you, it would not be his duty to keep his promise ; but 
he would act infinitely worse, if he were to keep his pro- 
mise of letting you go to hell without interruption. 

Indeed, Eusebia, said my father, you must renounce 
your errors, or submit to take the veil. I did not act 
rightly when I promised to be the cause of your ruin. I 
have had a long conversation with my friend upon this sub- 
ject, and am convinced that no engagements to break the 
laws of Christ can be binding. I must do myself the jus- 
tice, however, to declare, that, when I promised not to 
force your inclination, I intended to keep my word. But 
as the apostles could do nothing against the truth, but for 
the truth ; so no good catholic can bind himself, either to 
do any harm to the faith and church of Christ, or to omit 
doing them all the service in his power. 

I w r as so terrified when I heard this reasoning, that it 
was with difficulty I kept from swooning. My dear brother, 
perceiving my disorder, put his arm round my neck, and 
besought my father not to carry matters to such an ex- 
tremity, or at least to allow me time for consideration. 

Alas, my son, cried Signior Albino, you cannot con- 
ceive the indulgence she has already had. Yet I dare say 
her father will have no objection to grant her any reasona- 
ble time to retract her errors, provided she will promise 
to employ that time in endeavouring to reconcile herself 
to the church, which like a tender parent, is willing to re- 
ceive returning prodigals. To this my father assented, 
desiring me also to consider, that they had nothing in 
view, nor could have, but the glory of God, and the good 
©f my precious souh 

How sad a thing it is to have a conscience misinformed. 
This was the case of those who murdered the Lord of 



211 



glory ; and it was once the opinion of Paul, that he ought 
to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Naza- 
reth. A Christian makes the Scriptures the entire rule of 
his faith and practice. The Jews could not have crucified 
the Messiah, unless they had first made the word of God 
of no effect through their traditions : and to this source 
must be imputed all the bloodshed and murders which 
have been perpetrated in the name of the meek and lowly 
Jesus. 

I have this day conversed with my father, and pleaded 
his promise, but without effect. His conscience is under 
the direction of the priest, who tells him that no promise 
can be binding which is made to the prejudice of religion. 
And indeed I remember, that when a protectant gentleman 
was once telling father Albino that the council of Constance 
had decreed that no faith was to be kept with heretics, he 
replied, that the council was misrepresented ; for that, on 
account of a safe conduct being granted by the emperor to 
that arch-heretic Huss, it had decreed, not that no faith was 
to be kept with heretics, but that no safe conduct ought to 
fee of any prejudice to the catholic religion. This excuse 
I remember was not satisfactory to me ; since it was then 
my opinion, as much as it is now, that no consideration 
whatsoever should make us deviate from truth and justice. 

I am very sorry that my father has been persuaded to 
break his promise, for his own sake ; for, as to myself, I 
trust that, through the kind providence of God, I shall be 
enabled to defeat the counsels which are taken against me. 
I hope soon to have the pleasure of seeing you at Isling- 
ton, unless my dear parent should alter his resolution, 
which I have no reason to expect. I frequently think that 
but little food is requisite for the preservation of life. I 
am the worst off with respect to clothes, having few that 
will suit my mean condition : but I have a trifling sum of 
money, which is a great mercy. I shall not show my broth- 
er this letter, being determined not to inform him how I 
intend to extricate myself out of my present difficulties. 
He is truly ail I could wish in so near and dear a relation : 



212 



but I am determined not to involve him in my misfortunes. 
Besides, such a double shock might be more than my dear 
parent could bear. 

I am, with the best respects to you and my other kind 
friends, 

Dear Madam, 

Yours very sincerely, 

EUSEBIA NEVILLE, 



LETTER XXXVII. 

From Miss Neville to Mrs* Worthington. 

DEAR MADAM, 

I HAVE received your kind letter, enclosing one from 
my excellent but much injured sister ; injured by no one 
more than by myself. My mind is so much agitated, that 
nothing less than the obligations which I and my dear sis- 
ter are under to Mrs. Worthington could have made me 
put pen to paper. 1 thank you for your good wishes and 
seasonable instruction, and entreat your prayers that I may 
never turn my back en the good ways of God. How much 
have I been mistaken ! I pity and pray for my dear parent 
and Signior Albino, who know not what they are doing. 

It would give me great pleasure, Madam, to hear that 
my dear sister were under your friendly roof. As it is her 
intention to make an attempt to escape, the moments will 
appear to me very tedious till I shall hear of her having 
effected her purpose. With regard to myself and my dear 
brother, we have undoubtedly much to fear, if we carry ^ 
our views no further than to a furious priest, and an incens- 
ed parent : but I trust I have in some measure been ena- 
bled to rely upon him who said to the boisterous waves, 
Peace, be still. 

I am convinced that the doctrine of election is true. 
The divine sovereignty, as you justly observe, is inscribed 



£13 



upon every thing which we behold. And my dear Miss 
Barnwell has proved to me, that it is far from wearing an 
unfriendly aspect, even to the unconverted and the chief 
of sinners. It does, indeed, said she, put an insurmoun- 
table obstacle in the way of working for life ; but that 
ought not to be lamented, since it lays the axe at the root 
of pride. It puts no bar in the way of salvation : for eve- 
ry one that asketh receiveth ; and he that seeketh Jlndeth ; 
and to him that knocketh it shall be opened. 

How forcible are right words. Kow wise and excellent 
are the ways of God. How far does our wisdom fall short 
of those things of the most High, which we esteem unrea- 
sonable, weak, or foolish. My friend was a mean, in the 
hand of God, of making me fall in love with a doctrine 
which seemed before to wear the most terrific aspect. 
The truth is this; those parts of divine revelation which 
appear unfriendly, or even unreasonable, in theory, are 
salutary in practice. 

Notwithstanding the magnitude of my crimes, I hope I 
have not committed the unpardonable sin, In addition to 
what you have said concerning that sin. Miss Barnwell as- 
cribes its unpardonableness, not to the insufficiency of the 
blood of Christ, but to its being a proud or malicious re- 
jection of the way of salvation. The first ray of divine 
light which shone into my soul, was a conviction that I had 
trampled under foot the blood of the Son of God ; and the 
moment I saw what I had done, floods of tears accompa- 
nied the happy discovery ; I fled for refuge to that Being 
whom I had injured ; and my grief was swallowed up by 

It remains that I labour continually to make my calling 
and election sure. If Mrs. Worthington will be so kind 
as to send me, in her next letter, a description of a true 
Christian, it will be a valuable addition to the favours con- 
ferred on, 

Dear Madam, 

Your much obliged friend, 

MARIA NEVILLE, 



214 



LETTER XXXVIII. 
Froni Miss Barnwell to 3frs. Worthing on. 

DEAR MADAM, 

T 

a STILL continue with Miss Neville. We expect a let- 
ter from you every post, containing news from our dear 
Eusebia, and in the meantime consoie ourselves with the 
consideration that she is under the protection of an almigh- 
ty Guardian. 

About five o'clock this evening, as we were sitting in 
the court, Mr, Clifford rode by in his way to his own house. 
He stopped to tell me that he had received a letter from 
Ireland from his son, whose return to Poplar Grange he 
expects every day. We invited him to tea. In the course 
of the conversation, he told us that the letters he received 
from him were full of religion, which, cried he, is thrown 
away upon me. This produced the following conversa- 
tion. 

Mir. Is it because you really think that if you were a 
believer, you would be unhappy? that you so obstinately re- 
sist the evidences of Christianity ? 

Mr. C. Undoubtedly. Pray what should I gain by its 
being true ? 

Mir. Nothing, Sir, if you were to live and die in unbe- 
lief. But permit me to assert, that if you were to believe 
it, you would be a great gainer. 

Mr. C. I think you cannot defend your assertion. Sup- 
pose I were to believe this moment every thing written by 
the apostles, I should immediately become a miserable 
creature. 

Mir. I must beg leave to deny this. And I challenge 
you, Sir, to lay your finger upon any one proposition in the 
New Testament, and to prove that the belief of it would 
make you miserable. 

Mr. C. It is every where declared that the wicked will be 



215 



damned. I know that I am a wicked man. Can you per- 
suade me that to believe I shall be damned would make me 
happy ? 

Mir. If, Sir, you were to believe that the threatenings of 
the gospel will be executed, what effect would it have up- 
on you ? 

Mr. C. I say again, it would make me miserable. 

Mir. And what do miserable people do ? 

Mr. C. They try to get rid of their misery. But the 
Christian religion does not encourage men to try to save 
themselves. Heaven is not to be purchased by good works. 

Mir. It is true. Go then to the Almighty Parer*t of 
the universe for mercy. Implore the pardon of your sins 
for the sake of Jesus Christ, and your suit will not be 
rejected. 

Mr. C. Alas, Miss Barnwell, it is a vain attempt to en- 
deavour to cleanse this Augean stable. Answer this 
question, Was the reputed son of the carpenter the Crea- 
tor of the world ? 

Mir. I believe he was. 

Mr. C. Well done, girl, that is honest. I hate those 
who defend the religion of Jesus by asserting that the 
deity of the Messiah, and the doctrine of the atonement, 
are no parts of it. Do you think they believe themselves 
what they endeavour to impose upon others ? Not a tittle, 
not a tittle of it, I assure you. 

Mir. I cannot say that, Sir. They undoubtedly are 
but partial believers. 

Mr. C, I am too honest to become a Christian upon 
those terms. If Jesus did not assert his divinity, and if 
his death is not maintained to be an atonement for the 
sins of his followers, there is no meaning in language. 
He was condemned and crucified for blasphemy. If his 
enemies had misunderstood him, would not his disciples 
have declared after his death that he laid no claim to 
deity ? I require that you show the reasonableness of the 
divinity of Jesus. How could that Being who fills the 
universe become a man, and be brought up to a trade ? 



216 



Indeed, how can he become the object of sight, who being 
every where, is necessarily invisible. 

Mir. You appear to allow that there is a great Being 
who created the world ? 

Mr. C. I cannot doubt it. Wonderful contrivance is 
displayed in every thing which I behold. 

Mir. I am glad you believe the existence of a God. — I 
further ask, Wherein does man eminently differ from the 
brute creation ? 

Mr, C. In his ability to contemplate and admire the 
works of God, and to reverence their Almighty but invisi- 
ble Author. 

Mir. Is it not probable that a part of the rational crea- 
tion will be the companions of that God whose works they 
now contemplate and admire, and whom they now rever- 
ence and love ? 

Mr. C. Companions, my friend ? God is every where, 
and beholds his creatures ; but his creatures cannot see 
him. 

Mir. Cannot God visibly manifest himself to them ? 

Mr. C. Such a manifestation would not display a thou- 
sandth part of his perfections. 

Mir. I do not ask whether creatures can compre- 
hend their Creator, but whether he can visibly appear to 
them ? 

Mr. C. Suppose I grant it. 

Mir. If you grant it, you cannot tax with absurdity the 
appearance of God as a man, a poor man, and a carpenter. 
The great possessions of the rich, and the martial robes of 
the w T arrior, attract the notice of the giddy throng ; but 
every thing is valued by the sovereign of the universe ac- 
cording to its moral excellence. 

Mr. C. All the world shall never persuade me that 
there are three Gods. 

Mir. I shall not attempt to do it. 

Mr. C. But does not Athanasius in his creed declare 
that there are three Gods ? 

Mir. He tells us that the Father is God, that the Son is 



217 



God, and that the holy Spirit is God ; yet that there are 
not three Gods, but one God. This is equal to si ■• r r , 
that the one Jehovah is both the Father, the Son, and the 
holy Spirit. Every Athanasian maintains this ; and you> 
Sir, have acknowledged the possibility of it. 

To this Mr. Clifford could only reply by saying that I 
argued tolerably well, but that I had chosen a very im- 
proper subject to work upon. I told him the greater was 
his misfortune ; but that I would pray for him, for which 
he thanked me. 

He has been at the Hall since I left it, and he tells me 
that my father and mother live very much at variance. 
They quarrelled before him about what she had lost at 
play, and about debts that he had paid which were con- 
tracted before her marriage. 

Miss Neville unites with me in the best wishes for 
your happiness. 

I am, dear Madam, 
Your affectionate niece, 

MIRANDA BARNWELL. 



LETTER XXXIX, 
From Mrs. Worthing ton to Miss Neville. 

DEAR MISS NEVILLE, 

I RECEIVED your letter and that of my niece. My 
delay in writing proceeded from the hope that I should be 
able to give you the happy intelligence of the arrival of 
your sister, from whom however I have not at present 
heard. 

I rejoice that the great truths of the gospel are not 
offensive to you ; but it gives me still greater pleasure 
that you approve and embrace them. 

I learn by my niece's letter that you have had Mr 

T 



218 

Clifford with you. Poor man, he has long been enlisted 
under the banner of infidelity. We may perceive by the 
conversation he has had with my niece, how little it is 
that infidels have to say in defence of their rejection of 
divine revelation. Those truths which in his view are the 
most unreasonable and absurd, such as the dreadful threat- 
enings to sinners, and the divinity of our dear Redeemer, 
she has shown to be as agreeable to right reason as they 
are to the Scriptures. Infidels talk of the absurdity of 
God's dwelling with men. Yet much of the heathen my- 
thology is, I am persuaded, nothing but this truth in ruins, 
God's visiting the patriarchs seems to give but little un- 
easiness to unbelievers, whether Jews or Gentiles. To 
what can we attribute this, except that there w r as not that 
visible poverty in those appearances of the divine Majesty 
under the Old Testament which there is under the New. 

You desire me to give you a description of a true Chris- 
tian. It may not be improper previously to observe, that 
unregenerate persons may possess partially, and for a time, 
many of the marks of a servant of God. It is not impro- 
bable that our heavenly Father, who is wise in counsel, has 
left instances of those who have been almost Christians, 
that we may watch over ourselves and e*ach other with a 
holy jealousy, and never think of laying down our arms, 
and making peace with our internal enemies, which he has 
determined that we shall expel under the conduct of the 
Captain of our salvation. 

A Christian is one whose ears God has opened to hear- 
ken to his voice ; whose uncle i s.ancling he has enlightened 
by his Spirit to discern the divine glory shining in the cha- 
racter of the despised Jesus of Nazareth ; and who.is con- 
vinced that the righteousness of the Redeemer is the only 
robe in which he can appear before God. Though a per- 
son should hold a number of errors, which to you or me 
may appear inconsistent with this fundamental truth ; yet 
if this truth be held fast, his spot is but the spot of G*d's 
children. The plague of leprosy has affected nothing but 
the skin ; the vitals are not touched : therefore the high 



219 

priest of our profession will pronounce him clean. Wher- 
ever this faith is genuine, it will be productive of trust in 
the Redeemer, and the language of the soul will be like 
that of Habakkuk, Although the Jig-tree shall not blossom, 
neither shall fruit be in the vines, the labour of the olive shall 
fail, and the fields shall yield no meat, the flock shall be cut 
off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls ; yet 
I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salva- 
tion. If a Christian be tempted to depart from Christ, he 
will say with Peter, Lord, to whom shall I go ? thou hast 
the words of eternal life: and I believe and am sure that 
thou art that Christ, the son of the living God. And where 
faith and hope are genuine, they are always accompanied 
by love to God and to all his commandments. But upon 
this grace I intend to be more particular ; because by 
works of love to God and our neighbour we glorify our 
heavenly Father in the sight of the world, and prove that 
we are neither barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of 
our Lord Jesus Christ. 

1. If we love God, the grand idol Self is dethroned, and 
God reigns in our souls Though sinful self-love and its 
brood of evils are constantly asking for admittance, they 
are denied it ; and if they slip in unawares, they are turn- 
ed out with detestation. 

2. Meditation, prayer, and other religious duties, are 
not submitted to with reluctance, and merely as smaller 
evils ; for God pours upon his people a spirit of prayer 
and supplication, and the most exalted happiness of the 
unconverted sinner will not bear to be compared with that 
joy and serenity which flow from reconciliation with God. 
Bibulus is afraid to neglect family prayer. If, therefore, 
he have spent the whole day in a tavern, he will call his 
children and servants to prayer at night, because he thinks 
none but wicked people neglect the worship of God in their 
families. But, Bibulus, if the love of Christ had any share 
in your devotion, there would be a greater uniformity in 
your conduct, and you would spend the day to his glory as 
well as the night. 



220 



3. If the love of the Supreme Being be our prevailing 
passion, we have imbibed the meek and humble spirit of 
his Son, who is the image of the invisible od. We are 
teachable, and childlike ; every thought is brought into 
captivity to the obedience of Christ ; we do not love gran- 
deur and magnificence, but condescend to men of low es- 
tate, and are content in the meanest station. We prefer 
that which our heavenly Father prefers, and are desirous 
that he should choose our portion for us. Clitus is zealous 
in his profession of religion ; but wherever he comes, he 
must have the pre-eminence : he can bear neither superior 
nor equal. This temper renders his Christianity doubt- 
ful ; for he who does not possess the spirit of Christ, and 
who has not learned of him to be meek and lowly, is none 
of his. 

4. Our God being just and holy, if we do not abhor 
every thing which is unjust, or unholy, we do not love him. 
How can any one love the divine character who does not 
endeavour to imitate it ? We see an eminent instance of 
this love of justice and holiness in Joseph. There is none 
greater, said he to his mistress, in this house than I ; nei- 
ther hath my master kefit duck any thing from me but thee t 
because thou art his wife : how then can I do this great wick- 
edness and sin against God? Neither does the Christian 
censure the conduct of the divine Being, because he has 
mercy on whom he will have mercy ; because he harden- 
ed the heart of Pharoah ; nor because he chose Jacob in 
preference to Esau before either of them was born. The 
whole world could not persuade him that the Judge of all 
the earth will not do that which is right. He is well as- 
sured, that if, to preserve his justice from being violated, 
he spared not his own Son, he will on no aceount do any 
thing contrary to the purity of his nature. 

5. The love of God will cause us t& love those who bear 
his image, and in proportion as they appear to us to bear 
it. These, however they may be despised by the w r orld, 
we shall esteem the excellent of the earth. And this love, 
where it is real, will not consist merely in an affection 



221 



which we feel for them, much less in courteous behaviour, 
or kind speeches ; but, as we have opportunity, we shall 
minister to them of our substance, pray for and instruct 
them, or show our love to them in the best way we are able. 
A sinful self-love forms the basis of the character of every 
unregenerate man ; for if he is induced to give all his 
goods to feed the poor, selfishness is the only motive. But 
the Christian is animated by nobler principles. His su- 
preme affection is placed upon that great Being, whose 
holiness and goodness are beyond all comprehension, and 
infinitely beyond all bounds It is his habitual delight to 
be obedient to his commands, and he loves his image 
wherever he sees it impressed. This love to the servants 
of God is an essential part of the Christian character, and 
is that by which the sincerity of our faith will be tried at 
the grand assize. Christ will then say / was an hungered 
and ye gave me meat ; not, My discifiles were an hungered, 
and ye gave them meat. — The divine temper of love also 
shows itself, in meekly bearing and in mercifully forgiving 
injuries ; for charity, or love, suffereth long for the sake 
of Christ, and yet is kind. Father, forgive them, said our 
suffering Saviour, for they knGw not what they do : and his 
martyr Stephen followed his example, crying out in his 
last moments, Lord, lay not this sin to their charge. 

6. If we love God, we shall prefer his favour to every 
thing which the world holds up to our view ; yea, to life 
itself ; and sin will consequently be accounted the greatest 
of evils, because it unavoidably tends to separate us from 
communion with him. Believers have sometimes been 
surprised into great sins. While they are in this wilder- 
ness, they carry a body of sin and death about with them ; 
and the flesh, with its corrupt affections, iusteth against the 
spirit, or that new nature or mind which God hath given 
them. But sin is the object of their detestation ; and even 
those sins whieh the world entirely overlook will appear 
exceedingly sinful to them, because they are contrary to 
him whom their soul loveth. Unrenewed persons may 
dklike sin on several accounts ; as because it hurts their 

T a 



222 



honour, or interest, or puts them in fear of condemnation \ 
but they never hate it merely because God hates it, and 
because it is their meat and drink to do his will. 

7. Love to God manifests itself in a childlike disposi- 
tion. Because ye are sons*) says Paul, God hath sent forth 
the S/iirit of his So?i into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father. 
Adam, when he lost the divine image, lost the temper of a 
child, and fled from God as a slave flees from his master. 
When we are adopted into God's family, then that child* 
like disposition returns, which is productive of the best 
consequence, no obedience being acceptable to him where 
it is wanting. Whoever therefore entertains a strong sus- 
picion that he is not interested in the divine favour may 
assure himself that his love to God is weak and languish- 
ing, if indeed it have any existence. 

8. The knowledge of the true God always precedes the 
love of him. To love an unknown God is to love an idol 
of our own imagination. The true God has no bodily 
parts, but is the one pure eternal Mind, and can only be 
seen by us in his works. The works of creation are grand 
and magnificent, and would fill with amazement every ra- 
tional being, were it not for that sottish stupidity which 
forms a part of original corruption ; and they as well as 
the works of providence, display the divine goodness, wis- 
dom, and power. But the works of redemption by the 
Son, and of sanctification by the Spirit, so far surpass them, 
that the sun itself is eclipsed by their more refulgent splen- 
dour. To be warmed and enlightened, to be fed and cloth- 
ed, are great blessings, and call for gratitude to our Bene- 
factor : but to be delivered from the wrath to come, and to 
be made partakers of eternal blessedness in the presence 
of God, are favours of such a nature, that no language can 
describe their worth. The heathen world, before the com- 
ing of Christ, are represented as lying in wickedness. Al- 
though they professed to know God, yet they glorified him. 
not as God, neither were thankful ; that is, they did not 
love him. And the Jews who rejected the Messiah were 
truly told by him, that the love of God was not in them. 



223 



Believers who lived under the'Old Testament dispensation 
possessed this divine knowledge. They looke lorwards 
to the Messiah who was to come. Abraham rejoiced to 
see his day ; and he saw it, and was glad* David in spirit 
called him Lord. Isaiah saw his glory, and spake of him. 
Indeed all the prophets wrote concerning him : for it is 
said, that beginning at Moses and all the prophets, he ex~ 
pounded unto them in all the Scriptures the things concerning 
himself. But we live under a dispensation of superior 
light. To us the son of righteousness has arisen. He 
has assumed our nature ; God has dwelt with man upon 
the earth ; that eternal life which was with the Father has 
been manifested unto us; he has been preached to the Gen- 
tiles, believed on in the world, and received up into glory, We 
therefore certainly cannot expect eternal life, unless we 
know the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom he hath 
sent. 

I have written a long letter, notwithstanding I am far 
from hating finished what I intended to say. I must de- 
fer what remains till I write again, which I hope the ar- 
rival of your sister from France will soon give me the 
pleasure of doing. 

I continually pray for your whole family, and am, with 
sincere affection to yourself and to my niece. 
My dear Miss Neville, 

Your friend and obedient servant, 

MARY WORTHINGTON. 



LETTER XL. 

From Mrs. Worthington to Miss Neville. 

MY DEAR YOUNG FRIEND, 

V . 

A OUR sister is not arrived, nor have I yet received 
a letter from her* I anxiously expect either one or the 



224 



other every day. I shall endeavour to beguile the tedious 
moments by resuming the subject of my last letter. 

9. As soon as the love of God is kindled in his breast, 
the sinner views temporal objects with new eyes. He 
better understands the value of riches, honour, and every 
other transitory good, and esteems the divine favour the one 
thing needful. All unre generate men have this in com- 
mon ; they place their chief happiness, in some w r ay or 
other, in that which is not God. In a word, those who do 
not love the divine Being, and who do not prefer his favour 
to every other object, will be found at last never to have 
loved him at all. 

10. In examining whether we truly love God, there are 
few better rules than, when we are reading the writings of 
the apostles and prophets, to consider whether our minds 
are in unison with them. The cxixth psalm shows this to 
have been eminently the case of the sweet singer of Israel. 
We cannot love God in any greater degree, than we think 
in conformity with those living oracles. Every error has 
a tendency to weaken our love to God, because in some 
way or other it gives us erroneous conceptions of him. 
Or if our love should not be thereby weakened, it will be, 
in that respect, not love to God, but to an idol of our ima- 
gination. Whether this idol be numerically one, or three, 
or a thousand, the difference is of small account. He there- 
fore who thinks as the apostles and prophets thought, and 
who loves the truth which they delivered, loves that God 
whose truth it is- 

A counterfeit love of God is not uncommon. Catholics 
hug and kiss a crucifix, and bedew it with tears. They are 
likewise greatly moved by the representation of the suffer- 
ings of Christ in pictures. But the affections may be me- 
chanically excited, where there is no knowledge of the di- 
vine character, nor the least love to it. 

Protestants may work themselves up into raptures by an 
ideal view of Christ upon the cross, or in the garden of 
Gethsemane. This of itself is nothing but the effect of 
imagination. It is a malady which frequently attends per- 



225 

sons who are truly religious, but it is no part of religion. It 
may be, and frequently has been, where there is no know- 
ledge of God, or love to him as he is exhibited in his 
works and in his word. In this last ease such persons are 
often flamingly zealous, and consider themselves as Chris- 
tians of the first magnitude ; but they presently fall away, 
and bring an odium on that religion to which they were 
utter strangers. 

The Pharisee in the parable thanked God for favours he 
had never received, and imagined the divine Being had as 
high an opinion of him as he had of himself. As his ex- 
cellence was an imaginary excellence, so the object of his 
love and thankfulness was an imaginary god The Phari- 
sees thought highly of themselves on account of their obe- 
dience to the letter of the law, and to the numerous addi- 
tions made to it by their elders ; and had a proud confi- 
dence that they were thought highly of by God. These 
men are dead ; but men of the same character are still to 
be found Provided a person have no knowledge of the di- 
vine Being, nor love to him, yet if he can persuade him- 
self, or be persuaded by others, upon unsubstantial grounds, 
that he is an object of the divine favour, his affections may 
be greatly moved, and he may think that he loves God, 
And so indeed he does : but it is not the true God ; it is a 
god who he thinks makes great account of him. Men of 
this description are under the influence of worldly motives, 
and seldom associate with the people of God any longer 
than their pride, or covetousness, or some sensual passion 
is gratified. In a word, the mere pretenders to Christian- 
ity are either ignorant of the pure gospel of Jesus Christ, 
or, so far as they understand it, are enemies to it. They 
are frequently either zealous for the gospel in opposition 
to the law, or for the law in opposition to the gospel. Not 
so the man whom God has begotten by his word of truth ; 
he loves the whole mind of God revealed in his word ; yea, 
he meekly submits to that part of divine revelation which 
seems to be entirely against him. Thus David humbled 
himself before God when Nathan brought the cutting mes- 



226 



sage. When the Lord slew the sons of Aaron, and he 
commanded not to mourn for them, he submitted, and 
Eli did the same when Samuel told him what God had de- 
nounced against his house. 

• I constantly pray. Miss Neville, that you may be pre- 
served in the hour of temptation which seems to be coming 
upon you. Remember that they only who endure to the 
end will be saved. Lot's wife looked back upon Sodom, 
and perished. We must be willing to give up our lives, 
rather than offend him who is able to cast both body and 
soul into heiL His favour is so excellent, and his displea- 
sure so dreadful, that every thing besides is comparatively 
little and unimportant. 

I have now remaining what the world would call a very 
small pittance. But, with frugality, it is sufficient to place 
you and your brother and sister, as well as my niece and 
me, above want, tiil God provide belter for you. And it 
has this to recommend it ; you will receive it with a hear- 
ty welcome. If you should be removed to a place where I 
shall have no opportunity of writing to you, remember 
these necessary things ; that there is no salvation but by 
Jesus Christ ; that his obedience to the law of God is our 
only justifying righteousness ; that it is the duty of every 
sinner to come to God through him for pardon ; that that 
faith, with which eternal life is connected, is a belief, mix- 
ed with approbation, of the testimony of God concerning 
his Son ; that effectual calling is the sovereign act of God ; 
and that the whole plan of salvation hides pride from the 
Christian, and inculcates love to that great Being, from 
whom all our blessings flow. 

I am. my dear Miss Neville, 

Yours verv affectionately, 

MARY WQRTHINGTON. 



LETTER XLI. 
From Mrs. Worthington to Mis$ Barnwell. 

MY DEAR NIECE, 

JVXy anxiety about our dear Eusebia increases, as I doubt 
not does yours, and that of Miss Neville. 

My design in writing this letter is to divert my attention 
for a while to another subject, as well as to produce the 
same effect, my dear friends, upon you. 

For every thought, and word, and action, we shall give 
an account at the day of judgment. We shall be tried by 
the statute-book of heaven. The word of God is that book. 
It is a matter of the greatest importance then that we un- 
derstand it, and that it be the rule of our faith, and the 
directory of our practice. The truths which it contains 
are too solemn to exercise the talents ot the speculative 
disputant : they ought rather to excite the fears of the un- 
believer, and to cherish the hopes of the Christian. But 
still we ought to study them with attention ; to inquire 
what is their precise meaning ; and to pray that we may 
be guided in our researches by the Spirit of God. 

To these observations I have been led by a conversation 
which I had this afternoon with my grocer, Mr. Rose, who, 
I have not the least doubt is a sincere Christian. It is very 
possible for Christians to misunderstand the laws of Christ, 
especially if they do not keep clear of party prejudice. 
Were I to find any fault with Mr. Rose, it would be for 
being too positive, and rather too much prejudiced in fa- 
vour of his own judgment. A claim to infallibility, or any 
very near approaches to it, come with a bad grace from 
Protestants, none of whom has a right to call himself the 
true interpreter of the laws of Christy imperfection being 
written upon every person and every thing here below. 

In the course of the conversation, I happened to men- 
tion Mr. the Baptist minister, Mr. Rose immedi- 



228 



ately interrupted me by observing, that the rejection of in- 
fant baptism proceeded from a disbelief of that perfect 
atonement, which saves us in the same manner as it saves 
our infants. These people, continued he, suppose that salva- 
tion is owing to something beside the thing signified in 
baptism, and that some condition is to be performed by us 5 
which infants are unable to perform, notwithstanding our 
Lord has expressly declared, that we must enter his king- 
dom just as infants enter it. 

Ought we not rather, Sir, replied I, to take it for grant- 
ed, if we will not give ourselves the trouble to inquire in- 
to their opinion on that subject, that our brethren the Bap- 
tists are inconsistent with themselves ? It would be kinder 
to do so, than to charge them with denying the atonement 
of Christ, merely because they do not baptize their infants. 
Perhaps, Mr. Rose, if a Baptist were here, he would re- 
tort the charge, and tell you that the baptizing of infants 
was virtually denying the doctrine of the atonement, since 
it might be inferred, that you esteemed something else to 
be necessary to their salvation ; and something, too, for 
which you had neither precept nor example in the word of 
God. Thus might you reproach and accuse each other, 
without charity, without truth, without edification, and 
without end. 

Charity, Madam ? said he ; I confess I am no great ad- 
mirer of that Antinomian charity, which takes it fpr grant- 
ed that all are Christians who can talk about illuminations, 
imputed righteousness, and the other great truths of the 
gospel, at the same time that they manifest their disbelief 
of them, by paying no regard to many of the injunctions 
of our Lord and his apostles. Every society united by 
this false charity, is a branch of that grand antichristian 
apostasy, or opposition to Christ in the name of Christ, 
which was to take place in the w r orld. Those who .are tru- 
ly of God hear God's word. 

But you do not esteem, Sir, replied I, the little society 
to which you belong, to be the only church of Christ, con- 
sidering all others as antichristian ? 



229 

Indeed, Madam, I do, answered he. No society upon 
earth will bear to be measured by the word of God, ex- 
cept the church of which I am a member, and the church- 
es in connexion with us. Yet I have no doubt that there 
are many Christians beside those in fellowship with us ; 
but the voice of God to them is, Come out from among 
them, and be ye separate. 

You suppose then, said I, that all the members of your 
society are real Christians ? 

No, Madam, replied he, I do not. 
Then I find, Sir, that in your church, as well as in 
others, there are both good and bad. 

Be it so, Madam, answered he : but then we profess an 
entire subjection to Christ; and whenever it appears that 
any one does not yield an unreserved submission to all his 
precepts, we put away the unclean from among us. Like 
the church of Ephesus, we cannot bear those who are evil ; 
who say that they are Jews, and are not ; but who manifest 
by their works that they are of the synagogue of Satan. 

I commend every society of Christians, said I, for 
carefully watching over the conduct of its members. I 
am also ready to acknowledge, that protestant dissenters, 
in general, have been remiss in this particular duty. They 
have too much endeavoured to acquire large, and, as they 
are falsely called, flourishing congregations ; and have too 
often neglected to purge out the old leaven, except for no- 
torious evils. But is it not possible to run into the con* 
trary extreme, and to pluck up the wheat together with 
the tares ? Your society, Sir, will not be able, any more 
than others, to shut out those from its communion, who 
have the address to imitate both the faith and practice of 
Christians, as long as that imitation is attended with honour 
and interest. Many followed the Redeemer when he was 
here upon earth, not because they saw his miracles, but 
because they had eaten of the loaves ; and he has had such 
followers in all ages. 

True, Madam, replied he ; but protestant dissenters* 
in general, do not so much as profess to be obedient to all 

U 




£30 



the laws of Christ : it is no wonder, therefore, if their 
obedience be very deficient. No sin ought to be esteem- 
ed little, nor any of the commands of Christ of small im- 
portance. When do your ministers press upon their hear- 
ers abstinence from blood ? When do they enforce the kiss 
of charity ? or when do they exhort the friends of Jesus to 
follow hio example, by washing each other's feet? Do 
they ever so much as mention it to be the duty of Chris- 
tians to lay up treasure in heaven, in opposition to laying 
it up on earth, which our Lord has called by the name of 
covetousness ? If a minister of the. gospel were to tell a 
company of modern professors, that it is covetousness to 
lay up treasure on earth, and that the covetous are among 
those who will be excluded from the kingdom of heaven, 
they would deride him, as the Pharisees, who were cove- 
tous, derided Christ. 

I perceive, Sir, said I, that you insist upon our receiv- 
ing the commands of Christ in their most literal sense ; 
and if that be the sense in which they were intended to be 
understood, you are certainly right; but that remains to 
be proved. From blood I myself abstain, as do many with 
whom I am acquainted : it was always esteemed a sacred 
thing, as well before the institution of the law of Moses as 
since its abolition. — The kiss of charity I consider as a 
mode of salutation common to the time and place in which 
it was enjoined. Laying hold of each other's hand is the 
manner of salutation in this country, and as much love may 
be expressed in that mode as any other ; not that I am 
disposed to find fault with those who are otherwise mind- 
ed. I am likewise a stranger to the precise manner in 
which the first Christians saluted each other, as I believe, 
Sir, you are too. I confess I have never washed any one's 
feet ; but 1 have been ready to do the servants of Christ 
the me mest offices ; one] 1 assure Mr. Rose, that when- 
ever was? dng his feet will be of any benefit to him, or 
whenever it shall be in my '^ower to render him any other 
service I will cheerfully doit When sandals were worn, 
to assist any one in washing his feet was a friendly office* 



231 



In every country, it is requisite that Christians should be 
humble, and that they should condescend to alleviate the 
distresses of their brethren as much as they can. They 
who act otherwise, manifest themselves to be strangers to 
the spirit and temper of Christ, who, in condescending to 
wash the feet of his disciples, did not enjoin the observa- 
tion of a ceremony, but taught them by his example to do 
the meanest offices for each other. 

It does not become Christians, Madam, replied he, to 
explain away the precepts of Christ. The apostasy of our 
first parents was owing to such a mode of reasoning. 

I acknowledge, Sir, said I, that to adhere to the letter of 
scripture is a good general rule; but it is not without 
many exceptions. Tran substantiation is founded on scrip- 
ture literaly understood, as well as several other errors 
of the Romish church. We ought to take care, that in 
avoiding one error we do not run into the contrary extreme. 

And pr-y, Madam, cried he, how do you understand the 
command of Christ not to lay up treasure on earth ? I 
doubt not but you can explain it in such a manner as to 
make it mean the very reverse. 

The servants of Jesus, replied I, are taught, that he who 
clotheth the grass of the field, and feedeth the fowls of 
the air, will also provide for them. It is their duty there- 
fore to be diligent in business, without being anxiously 
concerned about making provision, either for a long time 
to come, or even for the morrow ; since an eager solicitude 
of that kind can be of no advantage, but must rather add a 
weight to the present evils, which our Lord observes 
are sufficiently heavy. — To attend more immediately to 
your question, let me appeal to yourself. Are we not as 
expressly commanded to take no thought for the morrow, 
and to sell that which we have and give alms, as we are 
not to lay up treasure on earth ? Wherefore then do you 
pay such great regard to the literal sense of this last text of 
scripture, when you pay so little to that of the two former ? 
In my opinion, it is much more the duty of the opulent to 
lessen their fortunes in order to alleviate the necessities 



232 



of the indigent, than it is of a poor man to give away every 
thing which remains to him out of his daily labour, without 
making provision for a time of sickness or for old age. 
Would it not be presumptuous in him to trust to an inter- 
position of Providence in his behalf, while he neglected 
that duty which he owes to himself? It is as much the du- 
ty of one who is rich to be mortified to the world, as it is 
of one who is poor; and there is as much danger of cove- 
tousness and sensuality in the possession of riches, as in 
the increasing of them. 

When the Church is in great distress, said he, it cer- 
tainly becomes us, not only to give away the surplus of 
our income, but even to sell our possessions, as the first 
churches did. and to distribute as every one has need. 

I agree with you, Sir, replied I : but if the church is 
not in that distress, it appears to me to be more lawful to 
increase our substance, after having dedicated a part of 
our profits to charitable uses, than it is to spend our whole 
income upon ourselves, without regarding the necessities 
of others. — If, Sir, I do not mistake, you have ten children. 
Several of them you have put apprentices to such busi- 
nesses as will require a considerable sum to set up in : 
and Thomas and William will be but poor grocers if they 
have empty shops. Your daughters too have received a 
genteel education, which will be a real injury to them if 
you do not give them fortunes. But I believe, Sir, thef 
have little to fear. That diligence which my friend mani- 
fests in his business, not to say that eagerness with which 
he pursues the world, is a proof to me that he is but an 
indifferent convert to his own doctrine. His conduct in 
this respect is I think a little censurable. Is it right, my 
dear Sir, to lay a trap for tender consciences, and to ne- 
glect that which we enjoin upon others ? I should like very 
much to know whether my friend is worth no more now 
than he was five years ago. 

Why, Madam, said he, as my family have increased, I 
have been obliged to increase my business, and have there* 
fore required a greater capital. But I do not call this lay- 



£33 



ing up treasure on earth ; — I can no more carry on my 
trade without money, than a husbandman can sow his land 
without seed. 

Very true, Sir, replied I ; but still you have increased 
your possessions, which I look upon as an evi), only be- 
cause my friend allows that in himself which he condemns 
in others. What is the difference between your extend- 
ing your trade as your wealth increases, and another per- 
son's putting his money out at interest, or placing it in the 
funds, because he has no opportunity to enlarge his trade ? 
We ought not to keep a bag of deceitful weights, and to 
use one weight for ourselves and another for our neigh- 
bours. You are not the first, Sir, that I have seen, who 
has denied the lawfulness of laying up treasure on earth, 
at the same time that he has been unremittingly pursuing 
the world.— I will readily acknowledge that the love of 
money is the root of all evil. A covetous Christian sounds 
no better in my ear than a cheating, lewd, or drunken 
Christian. The word of God contains many exhortations 
to be rich in good works, and willing to communicate of 
our substance to all who are in distress, but especially to 
our own household, and to those who are of the household 
of faith. It also contains rules, whereby we may propor- 
tion our liberality in common cases, as well as precedents 
which it may be proper for us to follow. Zaccheus pro- 
posed giving the half of his goods, or perhaps of his in* 
come to the poor, and also making a fourfold restitution to 
those whom he had injured ; Jacob dedicated a tenth of his 
substance to God ; and I doubt not but their examples have 
been imitated by many of the servants of God. 

One of the rules which the holy Spirit has prescribed 
is, that every one should give cheerfully what he has pur- 
posed in his own heart. There are times and seasons 
when Christians enjoy much of the divine presence, and 
when they are better disposed than at other times. In 
those tender and endearing moments, it is natural for them 
to inquire what they shall render unto the Lord for all his 
benefits: and what they then resolve to do for Christ in, 

U 2 



234 



his members, ought from that moment to be sacred, ant! 
to be faithfully applied to the intended use. 

Another rule is, to lay bv in store upon the first day of 
the week as God has prospered us : the proportion is left, 
like the free-will offering under the law, to the discretion 
of the giver, because no particular direction would apply 
to every case. 

I do not think, Sir, continued I, that it is a wise method 
of enforcing that obedience which every Christian owes 
to the laws of Christ, to stretch them beyond their true 
meaning ; since they who attempt to prove too much, fre- 
quently prove nothing at all. If the church w 7 ere in great 
distress, I acknowledge it would be criminal in us to in- 
crease our substance ; but it would be equally criminal not 
to sell our possessions for the support of our fellow Chris- 
tians, 

Pleading the cause of covetousness, Madam, replied he, 
is pleading the cause of idolatry ; for he who could not err 
has told us, that where our treasure is, there will our heart 
be also. There is a wide difference betwixt retaining what 
we possess and laying up more. He who desires to be 
rich is an idolater, because he trusts in Mammon, and is 
afraid to rely upon God, as appears by his not being con- 
tented in his present condition. They who possessed hou- 
ses or lands, might lawfully forbear to sell them, even 
when all things were common. Whilst it remained, said 
Peter to Ananias, was it not thine own ? And after it was sold 
was it not in thy own power? You perceive. Madam, there 
is a great difference between retaining our possessions and 
increasing them. 

Indeed, Sir, answered I, they appear to me to be equal- 
ly lawful, or equally culpable ; since we are as much com- 
manded to sell what we have and give alms, as we are not 
to lay up treasure on earth. An anxious importunity, 
either to keep our possessions or to increase them, is co- 
vetousnesss : it manifests that our minds are more dispo- 
sed to trust in uncertain riches, than in the living God, 
Moreover^ it ought to be remarked, that the young man in 



235 



the gospel was reproved, not for desiring to augment his 
possessions, but for being unwilling to part with them ; on 
which occasion our Lord observed, that it was trusting in 
riches which made it so difficult for a rich man to enter in- 
to the kingdom of God. If the possession of riches una- 
voidably draw the heart from God, what do you think, Sir, 
of many of the Old Testament saints, who had great pos- 
sessions, which they acquired not merely by the divine 
permission, but through the divine favour ? Would the 
most High have given them such abundance, if the gift 
had been incompatible with retaining the possession of 
their hearts ? I am however ready to acknowledge, that a 
state of affluence is attended with many temptations ; and 
that where God bestows riches upon his children, their 
gratitude ought to be mixed with fear and trembling, since 
the difficulties to which they are exposed may be compar- 
ed to a camel's going through the eye of a needle. 

We had more conversation on this subject ; but it end- 
ed as disputes generally do, without chunge of sentiment 
on either side. When we have once adopted this or that 
opinion, we are apt to look upon it with a parental fond- 
ness ; and our certainty of its truth increases, not as the 
evidence increases, but in proportion to the warmth with 
which we have defended it. 

Mr. Rose is, upon the whole, a very excellent man. If 
such persons misapprehend the divine oracles, how does it 
become us to implore the divine assistance, and to beseech 
our heavenly Father to give us large portions of his Spirit, 
that we may be led into all truth, and cheerfully submit to 
his guidance in whatever we perceive to be his will ! 

It would have savoured of ostentation, or I might have told 
this gentleman, that I have long practised myself what he 
insists upon to be the duty of all. When we had children, 
my dear husband, who did every thing by rule, appropria- 
ted a tenth part of what he gained by trade to charitable 
uses ; and after their death he did the same by the whole. 
His fortune was considerably impaired before he died by 
many losses ; yet he continued to give away the surplus of 



236 

our income. But he often observed to me, that though he 
believed this to be his duty in his present circumstances, 
yet this rule would no more suit every person, than the 
same coat would fit men of different statures, or one medi- 
cine cure every disease. 

I know a very worthy man who is a draper. When he 
married, and began business, his wife and he were worth 
about three hundred pounds. He entered upon a shop 
belonging to a person who had failed, and took the stock. 
In order to do this, he borrowed eight hundred pounds, 
which, with the divine blessing on his industry, he has re- 
paid, notwithstanding he has had an increasing family. But 
would it have been agreeable to the spirit of the New Tes- 
tament, to tell this young couple, upon their beginning the 
world, that the laws of Christ's kingdom did not permit 
them to be worth a shilling more than the three hundred 
pounds which they set up with ? that to attempt it would 
be idolatry ? and that whatever they might imagine them- 
selves to feel of the divine presence, yet, if they should in- 
crease their possessions, they would manifest that they 
were unbelievers, and that all their religion, and joy in God 
through our Lord Jesus Christ, were mere self-deception, 
and nothing more than a religious path to hell ? I think 
that such an intemperate and ignorant zeal would have 
gone as far beyond the truth* as it is to be feared, many 
professors of the present day fall short of it. Undoubt- 
edly covetousness, or an inordinate desire of the things 
of time and sense, be they what they may, is an evil as 
dreadful as it is common. It becomes every servant of 
Jesus to watch and pray against it ; for as, when the eye is 
evil or disordered, the whole body is full of darkness, so if 
a Christian, or one who calls himself a Christian, be co- 
vetous, we may depend upon it that he is a fruitless branch 
in every respect, and nigh unto cursing Many, it is to be 
feared, deceive themselves, by thinking what they would 
do for the poor servants of Jesus, if they were in such or 
such circumstances ; not considering, that God requires 
us to do our duty in the station wherein he has placed us, 



237 



and to be liberal according to what we have, ai*i not accord- 
ing to what we have not. 

I have this moment received a letter from our dear Eu- 
sebia, which I shall enclose, I hope she herself will soon 

arrive. 

Please to present my respects to Miss Neville, and to 
my good friends Thomas and Mary Livingstone. 

My dear Miranda, 1 ever remain, 
Your affectionate aunt, 

MARY WORTHiNGTON. 



LETTER XLII. 

From Miss Eusebia Neville to Mrs. Worthington, 

DEAR MADAM, 

I HAVE it once more in my power to write to my 
friends, but know not whether that will ever be the case 
again. 

It is past ten at night. I have just left my father, who 
has been assuring me that another day shall not pass be- 
fore I either renounce my heresy, or enter upon my no- 
viciate. Having tried every lenient method in vain, he is 
determined, he says, to enforce that authority with which 
God and nature have intrusted him. Father Albino de- 
sired me to consider that heresy is a species of insanity, 
and that heretics ought to be under the guidance of the 
sober-minded. I replied that the apostle Paul had been 
charged with madness, as well as his divine master ; and 
that I was not ashamed to bear the reproach of Christ. I 
begged my father to consider that I was no more able to 
change my religion than he was to change his. I further 
told him that I could not consent to go into a nunnery ; 
and I implored upon my knees, that, as he himself hoped 
for mercy, he would show mercy to a poor orphan. He 
wept, and lifting me up embraced me, mingling his tears 
with mine. My dear Eusebia, cried he, I do violence to 



238 

my nature; &ut I cannot bear to see you out of the pale of 
the chinch : therefore do not reply, for I Will be obeyed. 
My -iear brother entreated my father to give rne more 
time to consider of it. He replied, that his determination 
was the result of much consideration of the best advice, 
and of many prayers ; that he had bound himself to the 
performance of it by a solemn vow ; and that therefore 
all entreaties would be vain. 

I left the room in great distress, and my brother follow- 
ed me ; but I embraced him, and entreated him to return 
to my father. I may perhaps escape. I am not without 
hopes of it ; and in that case I earnestly pray that no part 
of the blame may be laid upon him. 

My brother has given me an account of the method 
which God took to make him behold the true light in this 
land of darkness. A great company will be gathered out 
of every nation ; and many who now appear to be first in 
privileges, and perhaps in visible attainments, will be last, 
while the last will be first. 

How does it become us, with the great apostle of the 
Gentiles, to keep the prize in view. Eternal things de- 
mand all our attention. Eternity is a vast ocean without 
a shore. I long to bid Farewell to sun, moon, and stars, 
and to be an inhabitant of that city where such auxiliaries 
will be for ever useless. 

My kind love to all my dear friends is all at present, and 
perhaps for ever, from, Dear Madam, 

Your affectionate friend, 

EUSEBIA NEVILLE, 



LETTER XLUL 

From 3£ss Barnwell to Mrs. Worthingtpn. 



MY DEAR AUNT, 

VVe received your letter, enclosing a letter from my 
much inhired friend ; and as I was yesterday in Miss Ne* 



239 

ville's closet I heard a carriage drive into the court-yard. 
I looked through the window, and saw Mr. William Ne- 
ville on horseback, and his father and the priest getting 
out of a postchaise. Not seeing my dear Eusebia, I con- 
cluded that she was imprisoned in a nunnery. But Miss 
Neville soon came up and informed me that her sister 
made her escape from St. Omer's the morning after the 
date of her letter. Immediately upon her being missed, 
which was not till her brother went to call her to break- 
fast, several persons were sent different ways in quest of 
her. But the whole day being spent without gaining any 
intelligence, Mr. Neville was filled with the deepest dis- 
tress, and he determined to return home the next morn- 
ing by the way of Dunkirk. He desired father Albino 
and his son to go by Calais, thinking that it would be im- 
possible for Eusebia to elude their pursuit. They all met 
in London three days after, without having accomplished 
their purpose. 

Miss Neville is full of grief for the loss of her sister ; 
and her father, she says, is inconsolable. I am very thank- 
ful that she is escaped. I trust the same kind Providence 
will watch over her, which has preserved the servants of 
God in every age and nation. 

I continued in the closet the remainder of the day, and 
at night removed to Thomas Livingstone's. I told Miss 
Neville I was determined not to be seen by her father, 
since it would exasperate him without answering any va- 
luable end. She agreed with me that it becomes Chris- 
tians not to invite calamity. But, said she, you may be 
here without my father's knowledge, if you can confine 
yourself to your room while he and father Albino are at 
home. I told her that I had determined to go to the house 
of our friend Thomas Livingstone when her father should 
arrive, and that I saw no reason to change my purpose, 
since I had no doubt of being as happy under his humble 
roof as if I resided in a palace. 

I can undoubtedly perceive a difference between the 
little cottage in which I now reside, and that buiiaing in 



£40 



which I was brought up : but the difference, if we consi- 
der every thing, is in favour of this humble tenement. 
The proprietor of the universe, when he stooped to visit 
his vassais, did not take up his residence in a stately man- 
sion, or a princely palace. He showed no desire to make 
his entrance in any place better than an inn ; and when 
there was no room for him there, he took up his residence 
in a stable. 

Miss Neville visited me this morning very early. I was 
not up when she entered my room. She tells me that 
father Albino said last night at supper, that what Mr. Ne- 
ville bewailed as an unfortunate event might be a kind pro- 
vidence ; for it was possible that Eusebia, when she came 
to be in want, might remember her father's house, where 
there was bread enough and to spare, and return, like the 
repenting prodigal ; and that, unless that were the case* 
he should never wish to see her again within those walls, 
her breath being pestilential, and every word she spoke as 
infectious as the plague. 

Yes, father, answered Mr. Neville, but I cannot forget 
that she is my child. Oh what a child ! I have sometimes 
thought, and I believe truly, that for gracefulness of per- 
son, modest and affable behaviour, and dutiful affection* 
the world had not her superior. 

All this is true, replied the father ; but remember that 
when the beloved sons of Aaron offered strange fire be- 
fore the Lord, and were slain for the offence, their father 
was not suffered even to mourn for them. I myself had 
almost a parental affection for that young lady ; yet I could 
gladly see her, and all the enemies of the holy Roman 
catholic apostolic church, consumed in one fire, if it were 
possible to make one large enough to hold them. 

My father, said Miss Neville, wept; and the colour 
came into my brother's face, who looked at the priest, and 
said- How much soever my dear sister may have erred, I 
doubt not but she has poured out many supplications to the 
Father of mercies for your happiness, and for the happiness 
of each of us, 



241 



I was so much shocked, continued Miss Neville, at ti 
language of the priest, that I burst into tears. My fathei 
told him very angrily, that he abhorred such fiery zeal. 
My children, said he, I am pleased that you remember my 
poor child is your sister, notwithstanding she is turned 
aside from the path of duty. 

I told Miss Xeville that father Albino always appeared 
so kind and affable, that I could scarcely have believed trim 
to be of such a sanguinary disposition. 

I confess, replied she, that his temper is the most be- 
nevolent and humane. But when those of the best dispo- 
sition imagine they are doing God service by their furious 
zeal, their natural tempers entirely disappear, and atheists 
and libertines, compared with therm are valuable members 
of society, 

I inquired whether her brother knew she was a protec- 
tant. 

She replied, that she had some thoughts yesterday in 
the afternoon of keeping it a secret, at least for a few days : 
but that last night after supper she opened her whole soul 
to him when they were by themselves, and that he receiv- 
ed the glad tidings with equal joy and astonishment. 

Our dear Eusebia did not disclose to her brother her in- 
tention of escaping, though he was with her late on the 
night before she went away. Poor dear girl j she knew 
he would be strictly examined by her father, and she was 
unwilling to bring him into any trouble. 

I told Miss Neville that things looked very dark res- 
pecting her and her brother. 

True, my dear friend, replied she ; but I thank God I 
am not now to count the cost. I desire to yield my dear 
Redeemer all my affection, and to depend upon him alone 
for support. 

I told her I should write to you. She desires her love? 
and thanks you, as I also do, for your description of a 
Christian. 

You will please to direct your next letter to Thomas 

Livingstone. I hope it will contain an account of our dear 

X 



242 



friend, who I have no doubt will write to you if she be alive. 
I sometimes please myself with hoping that she may soon 
be under your friendly roof. 

I am, my dear aunt, 

Your affectionate niece, 

MIRANDA BARNWELL. 



LETTER XLIV. 

From ~>Irs. Worthington to JTtis Barnwell, 

MY DEAR NIECE, 

I RECEIVED your letter, but have had no letter from, 
nor have heard any thing of our dear Eusebia. 1 am afraid 
some evil has befallen her, or what is so called by us mor- 
tals, who sometimes forget that the most afHictive provi- 
dences are blessings in disguise. I am glad, on their fa- 
thers account, that Miss Neville and her brother have not 
declared themselves protestants : for he is sufficiently af- 
flicted already. I do not wonder that father Albino should 
thirst for the blood of the servants of Jesus. The anti- 
christian church in the Reveladon is represented as riciing 
upon a scarlet-coloured beast, and as being drunken with 
the blood of the saints. I do not suppose that we are to 
understand by her the church of Heme only ; for though 
she is undoubtedly the mother of harlots, yet this mother 
has many daughters. No church which is not depenaent 
eniirejy uj on the Fveceemer, has any authority to call it- 
self the br.de, the Lamb's wife This appellation does 
not belong to the worshippers of Mammon : it belongs on- 
ly to those who submit implicitly to the authority of Christ, 
If we look arounc us, how few siiuii we find who have a 
single eye to the divine glory! and yet no others have a 
ri^ht to the name pi Chustians. 



£43 



Christianity had not been long in the world before its 
professors began to seek their own things, and to have 
men's persons in admiration because of advantage. Ye 
adulterers and adulteresses, says the apostle James, know 
ye not that the friendship, of the world is enmity with God ? 

A Christian resembling a light set on a hill is a rare 
thing in this day. Too many professors of religion follow 
the men of the world so closely, that they even tread upon 
their heels. In their houses, their furniture, their tables, 
and their equipages, there is little or no difference. It is 
almost as common for them to waste their fortunes by rio- 
tous, or, as they would term it, by genteel living, as it is 
for others. Such persons seem not to know that Christi- 
anity requires a life of continual self-denial. The Redeem- 
er commands us to take up our cross daily, that is, to sail 
contrary to the stream of this world i he apostle Paul 
kept his body in subjection, ran the heavenly race, and 
fought the good right of faith. And if we, my dear niece, 
are not m earnest, and if we do not daily endeavour to ad- 
vance in the divine life, we have no reason to believe that 
God has written his law in our hearts, it is not a bad 
method, when we are doubtful concerning the propriety of 
any of our actions, to ask ourselves whether it be proba- 
ble that the Redeemer, if he were here below, would act 
in this or that manner ; for it is our duty to be conformed 
to him, and to walk as he walked. To love God is to love 
his character as it is manifested in his beloved Son. But 
it is a vain thing to imagine that we love the character of 
the Son of God, if we habitually and allowedly practise 
such things as Ave have no reason to believe he would prac- 
tise if he were on earth. Persecuting Christians would 
do well to try themselves by this rule, and to see how far 
their conduct corresponds with that of the Son of God, 
who did good unto all, and evil to none ; who reproved his 
disciples when they showed a desire that the Samaritans 
might be consumed by fire from heaven ; who did not 
however endeavour by flattery to gain applause but told the 
most harsh and disagreeable truths to those persons at 



244 



whose houses he was entertained ; and who did not injure 
either the bodies or the souls of the children of men. The 
severity used under the Mosaic law is not to be imitated by 
the followers of Jesus ; nor do the judgments which were 
inflicted on Elymas the sorcerer, and upon Ananias and 
Sapphira, justify fallible mortals in persecuting each other. 
God has sometimes, even in later ages, vindicated his 
cause by bringing remarkable and terrible judgments up- 
on his enemies ; but he will not suffer his servants to 
avenge themselves, or to support his cause by methods 
that he has forbidden. It is the duty of a Christian to 
pray for his enemies, and to render good for evil, and 
blessing for cursing. The wicked shall not escape un- 
punished ; but vengeance is the divine prerogative, and 
the exercise of it is not delegated to us. God himself 
will pour tribulation and anguish upon every soul of man 
that doeth evil. I should have said nothing on this subject, 
had it not been for the unchristian wish of father Albino. 
I sincerely pity him , and pray that he may be led to see 
the criminality of his conduct. 

I feel for Mr. William Neville and his sister. I am 
persuaded they are more concerned at the addition which 
will probably be made to their father's unhappiness when 
he knows they are protestants, than at the sufferings which 
they are likely to endure in consequence of his displeasure. 
It becomes them, like king Hezekiah, to lay their cause 
before the Lord, and then they may expect a favourable 
issue. 

The case of my dear niece I should consider as very de- 
plorable, did I not know that there is a consolation in suf- 
fering forChrist with which the world is unacquainted. Let 
me repeat it, you are ever welcome to an asylum in my 
house ; and tell Mr. William and Miss Neville, that, if 
God shall deprive them of a father, they will find a mo- 
ther in me. I shall rejoice to render them every service in 
my power. My house will be sufficient to accommodate 
us all, and my dear Eusebia too, if God shall restore her 
to us again ; and my income will afford us a frugal main* 



^245 



tenance. Pray give my love to your kind host and hostess, 
and to the friends of Jesus Christ at Thornton Abbey. 
I am, my dear niece, 

Your affectionate aunt, 

MARY WORTHINGTON* 

P. S. I have such news to tell you, that my trembling 
hand will scarcely perform the task. Our dear friend is no 
more ! I have done nothing but weep since I heard of it. 
I dread to think how her poor father will bear the stroke. 

I was about to fold up my letter, when my friend captain 
Smith entered the room, accompanied by another person. 
Madam, said he, I fear I have bad news to tell you. I 
made all the inquiry I could concerning the young lady 
whom you told me you expected from France. Perhaps 
you will gain some information from this bundle. I exa- 
mined it, and found his suspicion to be too well founded. 
Among other things there was our correspondence in her 
own hand writing. 

The captain told me that the young man who accompa- 
nied him, and his captain, were all who were saved out of 
eight persons, among whom was one young lady. They 
sailed from Dunkirk in the afternoon ; and. it being blow- 
ing weather in the night, at three o'clock in the morning 
the vessel struck on the South Sand head of the Goodwin. 
They expected her every moment to go to pieces, and 
therefore hauled out the boat, in which two sailors, the 
cabin-boy, and three passengers, with great difficulty em* 
barked : but the captain and this sailor preferred staying 
upon the wreck. He says they could discern the boat 
founder at about two hundred yards distance. He and the 
captain, after remaining about an hour upon the wreck, 
were providentially taken up by a smuggling vessel. 

I paid the young man the full value of the bundle which 
he had saved, and also rewarded him for his intelligence. 
The bundle I shall send down by the waggon, directed for 
our friend Thomas Livingstone ; and I must leave it to 

X 2 



246 

the direction of my friends to make Mr. Neville acquain- 
ted with the sad event. 

How happy it is to be habitually prepared for death! 
This was eminently the case of our dear Eusebia, and she 
is now landed in a fair haven, where stomas and tempests 
will be no more ; where the wicked cease from troubling,, 
and the weary are at rest. 

My dear friends, adieu. 



LETTER XLV. 

Prom Mr. William Xeviile to Mrs. Yi or tiring ion. 

DEAR MADAM, 

"Y'oUR kindness to my dear sister, deceased, to myself,. 
ancl to my family in general, demands my most grateful 
thanks. I esteem it no common mercy that I am one of 
those whom you are pleased to honour with a share in your 
friendship. I assure you, that my sister and I feel such an 
affection for Mrs. Worth in gton as may be much easier 
conceived than expressed. 

We are full of grief on account of the loss of the kind- 
est and most tender sister. Oh, what a sister have we 
lost ! No, she is not lost: she is only gone before, to take 
posies -ion of the mansion which her Lord and head as- 
cended into heaven to prepare for her. Happy, thrice 
happy they, who have thus passed the swellings of Jordan, 
and are landed in that Canaan where there are no sons of 
Anak ; who are inhabitants of that city into which no un- 
clean person shall enter ; and who are arrived in that pa- 
radise where there shall be no more curse ! 

My dear friend (for so, Madam, must I call you) I am 
verv much afflicted, and at the same time very joyful. If 
I have buried one sister in the devouring ocean, I have un- 
expectedly received another from the dead. When I 
found that my sister had changed the lar guage of Ash- 
do d for that of Canaan, I was like them that dream, and 



mm 

oould scarcely believe for joy and wonder. AH our mer- 
cies flow from that God who worketh all things aftei he 
counsel of his own will. To him I desire to give the 
praise. 

Your amiable niece is well, and at our house, and I be- 
lieve is not less afflicted than my sister and myself at losing 
her dear Eusebia. We mourn on account of our o vvn loss ; 
for we have no doubt but her beloved Saviour has conduct- 
ed her to the promised rest. 

I have not mentioned my dear parent : his affliction is 
great indeed. He considers himself as the murderer of a 
most beloved child. 

When the post-man came yesterday with a letter to fa- 
ther Albino, the old gentleman observed one with a large 
black seal directed for Thomas Livingstone. He called 
my father, and told him that that letter probably contained 
some account of his daughter. The letter-carrier was de- 
sired to stop w hile the footman went for Thomas. \\ hen 
he was come, my father begged him to read it there, and 
to let him know if there was any thing in it concerning his 
daughter. Thomas replied that the letter did not belong 
to him, but to a certain person at his house. My father 
immediately suspected that my sister was there, and told 
the good man that he would go with him, as he did not 
doubt but the person would inform him if there was any 
thing in the letter concerning his daughter. He was sur- 
prised when he saw Miss Barnwell, who* as soon as she 
saw him, turned pale, and trembled from head to foot. 
Ah, Miss Barnwell, cried he, how dreadful a thing is 
guilt! She soon recovered herself suffici en tly to tell him, 
that it was not guilt, but surprise at seeing him there, 
which affected her. Well, well, replied my father, we 
will wave this. Thomas has a letter for you ; and all I de- 
sire to know is, whether it contains any thing concerning 
my daughter. Miss Barnwell, taking the letter, hastily 
opened it, and read it to herself, till she came to the post- 
script, when she fainted away, and dropped it out of her 
hand. 



245 

If, Madam, you had been there, as I was, you would 
have seen a melancholy sight indeed. While Thomas 
and his wife were taking care of Miss Barnwell, I took up 
the letter, and cast my eye on the postscript. O my dear 
father, said I, the contents are too bad for you to know. 
My parent burst into tears, and cried out, My child is 
dead ! Oh she is dead, she is dead ! I shall never see her 
any more ! I have murdered my child ! Xo words can de- 
scribe the grief of my father, and indeed of us all except 
father Albino, who said the ensuing evening that he had 
expected no less : that her death was manifestly a divine 
judgment ; and that if he was her father, he should no 
more grieve for her than for a dog. St. John, said he, tells 
u.i, in the Apocalypse, that without the gates of the city, 
that is, out of the pale of the church, are dogs and sorcer- 
ers. 

You must have a heart of adamant, cried my father, or 
you could not talk at this rate. It is a sign you do not 
know what it is to be a parent. If God were to have no 
more compassion than you, the case of my daughter would 
be deplorable indeed. Oh how did she declare on her 
knees before me at St. Omer's, that she would gladly lay 
down her life for my sake ; and how did she pray me, for 
the sake of the dear Redeemer, not to desire her to do 
those things which it was impossible for her to do ; and 
how did my son beseech us to have compassion on her, 
when we saw the anguish of her soul. I tell you, father, 
I have imbrued my hands in the blood of my child, and 
you are an accomplice in my guilt. 

The priest was wise enough not to reply. He perceiv- 
ed, by my father's manner of speaking, that he was great- 
ly moved, and that he himself was the principal object of 
his resentment. Indeed this priest had the entire keep- 
ing of his conscience ; and he was hurried on to do what 
he did, contrary to his natural inclination. When my dear 
sister fled from St. Omer's, my father thought I had some 
hand in it. But when I solemnly and truly told him that 
I .had not, and that I was ignorant whither she was gone. 



249 

he told me he was fearful he should never see her again ; 
and that if what had been done could be recalled, he would 
not desire her to take the veil contrary to her inclination. 
My father is a very humane man, and a tender and indul- 
gent parent. It is greatly to be lamented, that the infinite- 
ly benevolent religion of the meek and lowly Jesus should 
be so far corrupted, as to make those who are naturally of 
an v miable temper the persecutors of the servants of Jesus. 
I must do father Albino the justice to say, that he is as ten- 
der and benevolent a man as any in the world, where reli- 
gion is not concerned : but the least contradiction in that 
tender point greatly irritates him. He has, however, car- 
ried his point too far, and has thereby lost much of his in- 
fluence over my father. 

To-day my father asked my sister how Miss Barnwell 
came to be at Thomas Livingstone's. 

Permit me, Sir, replied she, to tell you the truth. I 
was very ill while you were out ; indeed I am far from be- 
ing well now ; and I entreated Miss Barnwell to visit me. 
She knew that she had offended you by corresponding with 
my dear sister : I could not persuade her therefore to stay 
after you came home. 

My father rang instantly for the footman. John, said 
he, go to Thomas Livingstone's, and give my respects to 
Miss Barnwell, ami desire her to be so kind as to come to 
my house. 

Sir, said father Albino, I think you have had trouble 
enough through that heretic, without running a fresh ha- 
zard of having the minds of your children poisoned with 
her damnable doctrine. 

The greatest calamity I ever met with, said my father, k 
ihe death of my dear child : and you, Sir, ought to know 
who it is that has been in a great measure the cause of it, 
This lady has her peculiar sentiments, as we have ours ; 
but she could not be the intended enemy of my child. I 
was a witness of the grief with which she was filled at the 
news of her death. The pressure was so great, that nature 
sunk under the load. I tell you, Sir, I am, I must, I will 
be the friend of those who were friends to my dear child, 



£50 

When Miss Barnwell was come, rny father apologized 

for not sending for her yesterday. He told her, that his 
grief was then so intense that he had not power to think of 
any thing ; but that the affection she had manifested for his 
Eusebia would for ever endear her to nim. 

Miso Bamweii thankeu him, and said that the affection 
between his daughter and her had Deen reciprocal, and that 
they had only parted a short time to meet again for ever. 

Oh Miss Barnwell, said my father, if you and I and my 
dear child shall be so happy as to meet in the mansions of 
the blessed? we shall not engage in religious contention, 
which of all things I the most abhor. It is Uus which has 
influenced me to adhere to the good old way, in preference 
to novel opinions. 

Pardon me, Sir, replied your niece, but I am confident 
neither you, no: Signior Albino, nor Miss Neville, knew 
any thing of Eusebia. She whom I had the honour to call 
my friend, was a humoie follower of the Redeemer, so far 
as she understood his will ; and I will venture to assert, 
that she held no novel opinion .vhatever. 

Having said this. Miss Barnwell pulled out of her pocket 
the book which contained the correspondence between my 
sister and her friends, and gave i: to my rather. Tr.is. Sir, 
said she, belonged to your daughter ; and it is the only 
thing that was saved from the wreck, except a small bundle 
which is at Thomas Livingstone's. You may now con- 
vince yourself that my invaluable friend, if she could not 
hold every sentiment you did. rejected them merely be- 
cause they were new-fangied opinions, and confined her-, 
self to a few self-evident truths, none of which are less an- 
cient than the time of the apostles. My father took the 
book very graciously, opened it, and, seeing it was her 
hand-writing, put it in his bosom, the tears trickling down 
his cheeks. 

The colour rose in father Albino's f^ce. Sir, said he with 
an imperious tone, the friendship I owe to you and your 
amily obliges me to protest against your having any thing 
to do with heretical books. The fire is the place for those 



251 



accursed writings, as well as for their authors. While I 
have a being I will not be awed into silence, where the 
cause of God, of his saints, and of his church, is concern- 
ed. I teli you, Sir, you show a weakness unworthy of a 
wise man, and much more so of a religious man, in the 
fondness which you manifest for one of God's most impla- 
cable enemies. If I thought that I had a drop of hereti- 
cal blood in me, though it were in my heart, I would let it 
out. 

My father is not given to wrath, except upon strong pro- 
vocation. He looked sternly at the priest. Thou unfeel- 
ing monster, said he, henceforth I desire thee to herd 
among thy fellow savages, that deiight in murder and 
blood. Wretch that thou art 1 Thou hast robbed me of 
my peace for ever. O that I should hearken to thy inhu- 
man counsels ! Thou hast been the murderer of my child. 
It has been entirely owing to such blood-thirsty creatures, 
that catholics have stunk in the nostrils of protestants. My 
dear child's reading concerning their cruelties was the 
reason, and the only reason, of her forsaking the religion 
of her ancestors. 

I could not help pitying the poor priest, who wept like 
a child ; and we all besought my father to moderate his re- 
sentment. No one felt more for him than Miss Barnwell. 
The dear girl wept when she saw his distress. I earnest- 
ly beg, Mr. ISevilie, said she, that there may be no misun- 
derstanding between you and father Albino. I am certain 
that he means well, and that he thinks the honour of God 
is injured by the tenderness which you express for my 
friend. In a word, Miss Barnwell laboured so effectually 
to reconcile these two friends, that they shook, hands, and 
it was promised on both sides that all which had passed 
should be buried in oblivion. Thus things rest at present 
1 have no doubt. Madam, but you will di aw a favourable 
conclusion from what has passed, that our parent will not 
be inexorable when he knows that we are protestants. I 
duiiy pray that tnis may be the case, and that he bin self 
may not only become a protectant, but also a true servant 
of Jesus Christ. 



252 



My sister and Miss Barnwell desired me to give you a 
detail of what had passed since yesterday morning, when 
we received the afflictive news ; to which I consented, as I 
shall esteem it no small happiness to be admitted into the 
number of your correspondents. My father, after reading 
the postscript of your letter, said he took it very kindly that 
Mrs. Worthington interested herself in his happiness ; 
but above ail, that you and every one were dear to him 
who esteemed his deur child ; and that he would repay the 
expense you had been at in purchasing the bundle saved 
from the wreck, and ever gratefully remember the favour. 

Your niece and my sister unite with me in th^ best 
wkhes for your happiness. 

Dear Madam, I am, very respectfully, 
Your obedient servant, 

WILLIAM NEVILLE 



LETTER XL VI. 

From Miss Barnwell to Mrs. Worthing ten. 

DEAR MADAM, 

T*HE loss of my excellent friend very much indisposes 
me for writing ; but as I know that my dear aunt will want 
to be informed how things are going on at the Abbey, I 
shall endeavour to give her all the satisfaction in my pow- 
er. I have reason to bless God that all the respect is 
shown me here that I could wish for. Mr. William 
Neville is a modest, sensible, obliging man : he is indeed 
the very picture of Eusebia. There is in him, as there 
was in her, a sweet melancholy brooding upon his counte- 
nance, as well as a remarkable diffidence in his behaviour : 
yet he is sufficiently free and communicative among his 
friends, but never arrogant or assuming. His father treats 
me with great affability and tenderness; and even father 
Albino shows me uncommon respect, 



253 



I was yesterday in the wilderness, a place sacred to the 
memory of Eusebia, and accidentally met father Albino. 
What a pity it is, cried he, that so amiable a lady as you 
should be out of the pale of the holy catholic church. I 
do not mean to offend you, Miss Barnwell : what better 
thing could I wish my most valuable friend ? What a di- 
vine temper are you mistress of, to feel so compassionate- 
ly, and even to find an excuse for one who you knew was 
your avowed enemy. Believe me, my dear young lady, I 
am your most sincere friend. You have bound me to 
you forever ; and I must and will esteem you while I have 
a being. 

I am much obliged to you, Sir, replied I, and I am glad 
to find in you so ingenuous and grateful a temper. But 
why should you wish me to be a catholic ? I would not 
take any trouble to make you a protestant. I wish you to 
be something infinitely better than that. 

No ! cried the father, full of surprise ; would not you, 
who are so zealous a protestant, wish your friend to be a 
protestant, if you thought it the best religion ? 

I certainly do think it the best religion, answered I ; yet 
I am ready to confess that many millions of protestants 
are not Christians. Why then should I endeavour to 
make you such a protectant ? The truth is this ; neither 
catholics nor protestants in general have the spirit of 
Christ. 

Pray, Miss Barnwell, said he, do not you judge unchari- 
tably ? 

No, Sir, replied I. by no means ; it would not be charity 
to tell a sick man that he is well. 

That seems reasonable, said he, but pray tell me how 
you came to be so wise as to be able to distinguish those 
who are Christians from those who are not ? 

It is not difficult, Sir, replied I to answer your question ; 
but you will neither understand nor believe me when 1 do 
answer it. However, as you are so candid as to hear me 
patiently, I will speak as intelligibly as I can Our i.ord 
told his discipies that all his children should be taught of 



254 



God. He who is so taught is separated from the world, 
and a different spirit is given him : he is indeed a new 
man, Such a person can discern both those who are in his 
former state, and those who are in his present : and al- 
though there may be some few difficult cases wherein he 
may judge wrong*, yet even in such cases, if he keep the 
rule in view which our Lord has given for that purpose, 
he will judge as he ought to judge. We can know men 
only by their fruits. If therefore I were to see a thorn 
bring forth grapes, I ought to esteem it a vine, until time 
and experience convinced me that they were not its natural 
fruit. 

I confess, Madam, said he, that you have answered very 
well. But as you lay claim to the gift of discerning spirits, 
I have a favour to ask, w r hich is, that you will as a friend 
sincerely and honestly tell me whether you think me to be 
a believer or an unbeliever ? I give you my w T ord that no- 
thing you may say shall offend me. 

The children of God, replied I, know that they are 
passed from death unto life, because they love his charac- 
ter, and love his saints. You therefore, Sir, ought to con- 
elude that you are yet in the gall of bitterness, and in the 
bond of iniquity, because you have persecuted one of his 
children, and occasioned her death ; one who truly esteem- 
ed you, and offered many prayers mixed with tears for 
your happiness, as well as for the happiness of the rest of 
her friends. 

The poor gentleman was greatly moved. He cried out, 
with hands lifted up, and with tears in his eyes, I have 
done my patron's child much injury, beside being the in- 
direct cause of her death. I have not been actuated by the 
spirit of Christ. Like Saul, I have persecuted Christ. God 
be merciful to me. I beseech you to pray for me. 

I hope, Sir, replied I, that God has given you repent- 
ance unto life. 

ALs, cried he, my sins are of infinite magnitude. 

Suppose that were really the case, saiJ L there would 
be no necessity for despair. The price paid by the Re- 



£55 



deemer was an infinite price ; so that notwithstanding sin 
has abounded, grace has much more abounded. If you 
think that you are the greatest of sinners, you only think as 
other sinners have thought. But, Sir, have you not had 
some thoughts concerning these things before to-day? 

Yes, Miss Barnwell, answered he, very many, 1 assure 
you. My conscience frequently smote me when that ex- 
cellent lady, whose death I have occasioned, conversed 
with me. I was, however, so exasperated against all 
those whom I then thought to be heretics, that I stifled 
every conviction. But since her father accused me of be- 
ing the cause of her death, I have not enjoyed a moment's 
peace : and your kind interposition in my favour brought 
afresh to my mind the divine philanthropy of that excel- 
lent young lady, whose kindness seemed to increase in the 
same proportion as I persecuted her. Oh, Madam, I per- 
ceive myself to be as different from you and her, as a wolf 
is from a lamb : and the undisguised truth is this ; I came 
into the wilderness on purpose to converse with you. 

I told father Albino, that if God should mercifully cause 
him to be a real Christian, he would most probably be 
thereby exposed to many evils in this world 3 from the re- 
sentment of Mr. Neville especially. 

Do you think it necessary then, my dear friend, said he, 
that I should become a protestant, in order to become a 
Christian ? Are there no catholics who are Christians ? 

You will find it necessary, replied I, to regulate your 
conduct by the New Testament. If you should [find in 
that divine book the Roman catholic religion, I do not ad- 
vise you to abandon the church of Rome. I do not wish 
you to leave that church any further than she has left the 
apostles. 

How forcible, cried the old gentleman, are right words ! 
With the divine assistance I will take your advice, and en- 
deavour to learn what I fear I have not yet learned, the 
first principles of the oracles of God. And O thou Foun- 
tain of light, I beseech thee for the sake of thy holy Child 
Jesus, to dispel my darkness. To this I replied, 1 pray that 
God may tteat and answer your prayer, 



£56 

My friends were agreeably surprised when I related this 
conversation. They unite in love to you with, 
Mx dear aunt, 

Your dutiful and 
Affectionate Niece, 

MIRANDA BARNWELL. 



LETTER XL VII. 

JJrom Mrs. Wor 'thing* 'on to Miss BarnwelL 

MY DEAR NIECE, 

I RECEIVED Mr. William Neville's letter, and also 
yours. Please to tell that gentleman that his correspond- 
ence will afford me great pleasure. 

What short-sighted creatures we are ! I dreaded the 
consequence when Mr. Neville should know that his son 
and daughter were protestants. But things now, I thank 
God, wear a promising aspect ; for that gentleman seems 
to view persecution, which is the most horrid part of pope- 
ry? in its true light. 

I also thank God on account of what you have related 
concerning father Albino. I hope he has been renewed 
by divine grace ; for that only is able to make the wolf 
dwell peaceably with the lamb, and the leopard lie down 
with the kid. This is the man who but a fortnight ago 
breathed hatred and malice against the saints of the most 
High. God has touched this lofty mountain, and has le- 
velled it with the lowest valley. We may say to the proud- 
est sinner, raid to every thing that opposes the cause of 
the Redeemer, Who art thou, 0 great mountain ? Before 
Zerubbabel thou shalt become a plain. Many have I seen 
who were exceedingly furious, and even mad, against the 
ways and people of God, whom in the midst of their ca- 
reer an arrow from the divine quiver has smitten, and who 
have immediately laid down their arms, and become the 
reverse of what they were before. Paul was a remarkable in- 



S57 

stance of God's acting in this sovereign way ; and in all his 
writings he took abundant care that succeeding ages should 
know that he beheld himself in that light I do not say 
that no real Christian can be an Arminian ; but he must be 
a very inconsistent one, if it is indeed true, that we are 
saved by the obedience of the Son of God I say obedi- 
ence ; since his sufferings are apart of that obedience, and 
indeed the finishing part. It is nevertheless true, that all 
who perish where the gospel is preached, will have only to 
blame their own depravity, which showed itself in their vo- 
luntary neglect or rejection of the Saviour. 

Since I wrote the above, Mr. and Mrs. Barnwell have ar- 
rived here. I have received many favours from your fa- 
ther ; I therefore invited them to be at my house, to which 
they consented. I am sorry to tell my dear niece, that I 
see no tokens of good in either of them. Her mind is 
wholly taken up about places of diversion and amusement, 
and how to adom that body which will in a short time be 
the food of worms. 

I asked your father whether you were at home ? 

No, Madam, replied he, I dare say you know that : nor 
do I wish to see her there, unless I could have my own 
daughter again. 1 have heard of children's being changed 
in the cradle, but never before of their being changed after 
they were nineteen or twenty years old ; and yet that is 
the case with my foolish girl. I cannot forgive her. In- 
deed I shall never forgive her : she knew how much I ab- 
horred all canting and whining about religion. My daugh- 
ter? she is none of my daughter ; she has not a drop of 
my blood in her veins, or she would not have gone into a 
conventicle ; a mere barn, with a few forms in it, and 
a tub turned upside down for a rostrum, I will take an 
oath that I heard either that it was a tub, or no better than 
a tub. 

1 will take your word, Sir, replied I ; it is not an affair 
of sufficient importance to require an oath. 

Nay, Madam, replied he, I must beg leave to differ 
from you. Is no regard to be naid to decorum ? Was it 

Y 2' 



258 



proper that my daughter should herd with the scum of the 
earth. 

Indeed, Madam, cried Mrs. Barnwell, it was a meeting 
to which no persons of fashion resorted ; none but low- 
bred people; so that I do not wonder at Mr. Barnwell's be- 
ing so angry. 

Were you not a dissenter, Madam ? said I. 

Yes, replied she, but that was a very different affair ; the 
most respectable tradesmen in the town went to our meet- 
ing. Mr. Pine I dare say is worth forty thousand pounds : 
dont you think he is, Mr Barnwell ? 

He is undoubtedly very rich, answered he. And I have 
often said that in market towns, and great trading places, 
where they have a genteel place of worship, and a good sa- 
lary for a reputable minister, I do not blame persons for 
going to meeting, especially if they were born dissenters ; 
for I think every one ought to go where he was brought up. 

Your father is come to town about his chancery-suit. 
By what I can learn he is not very sanguine that it will 
terminate in his favour; and if it should not, the loss of 
this estate, and a little assistance from his wife, may put it 
out of his power to do much for you, even if he had the in- 
clination. I esteem it no small mercy, my dear child, that 
God has put it in my power to supply the place of a pa- 
rent to you. I shall long to hear how affairs go on at 
Thornton Abbey. Pray remember my kind love to all 
the servants of our divine master there. 
I am, my dear niece, 

Your affectionate aunt, 

MARY WORTHINGTON, 



LETTER XLTIII. 

From Miss Barnwell to Mrs. Worthington* 

DEAR MADAM, 

I THANK you for. your kind letter. I have indeed small 
expectations from my father. As I continue to receive 



259 

much respect from Mr. Neville and his family, I think I 
shall stay here some time longer. When I remove, I in- 
tend to accept my dear aunt's invitation. 

In reading your conversation with my father, sorrow 
and joy took possession of me alternately. Sorrow, that 
so near a relative should not only be a stranger, but an ene- 
my to the Redeemer ; and joy, that God in sovereign mer- 
cy should call me to the knowledge of himself, notwith- 
standing I am sprung from one who is a stranger to the 
covenant of promise. When the temple of God shall be 
finished, every stone in the building, as well as the head- 
stone, will ascribe it entirely to the grace of the almighty 
Architect, that it was chosen out of the common quarry, 
and fashioned for the intended use, in preference to other 
stones of equal goodness. May I always remember with 
self-abasement the rock whence I was hewn, and the hole 
of the pit whence I was digged. 

With regard to my father's estate, I should look upon it 
as a happy thing for him to lose it, if that were to be a 
mean in the hand of Providence of making him seek the 
true riches. Nothing used to give me more pain than to 
hear him value himself upon his being a gentleman. Alas i 
what a poor prerogative it is for the offspring of God, for 
immortals, to live in a large house, and to wear clothes 
made of fine wool or linen, and this for only sixty or se- 
venty years. I have not mentioned their living without 
labour, and eating and drinking much more than nature 
requires ; because these things ought to be considered as 
curses rather than blessings. O my God ! may I and all 
thy servants rather glory in the cross of Christ, and in 
all that infamy which attends the confession of thy name. 

You wish to hear, Madam, how we go on at the Abbey. 
I have conversed with father Albino several times since I 
wrote last, and I hope with good effect. I have chiefly 
endeavoured to prove out of the Scriptures that Jesus is 
the Christ, the only Saviour ; and also that it is the em- 
ployment of Satan, under the disguise of an angel of light, 
to substitute in the room of the perfect obedience of Christ* 



260 

and of that atonement which he made for sin, a religion of 
which the love of God makes no part. Not withstanding, 
continued I, the helpless condition of man since the fall, 
and that it is now impossible for him to live by his own 
righteousness, yet the enemy of souls, continually labours 
to make him build a Babel that will reach to heaven, there- 
by endeavouring to render the mediatorial work of Christ 
of no effect. 

He asked me what I thought of the monks and nuns in 
their church. 

I told him, that the way of life followed by those people, 
if it be viewed in the most favourable light, must be con- 
sidered as an endeavour to approach the divine presence 
in a different way from that which has been appointed ; 
and that notwithstanding the name of Christ is not entirely 
omitted in their religion, yet in general, as well as among 
protestants, it is only used as an auxiliary to their own in- 
ventions. 

He then asked my opinion concerning purgatory. 

I answered, that that also was invented to supersede the 
redemption which is by Christ Jesus, by pretending that 
it is possible for sinners to be purged from their guilt by 
their own sufferings. 

My dear friend, cried he, what you have told me I know 
to be the truth. Where have I been, and what have I been 
doing all my life time ? 

You have been doing Sir, replied I, that which millions 
of men called Christians do all their days. But it is your 
infinite mercy that God has stopped you in your career^ 
while thousands around you are left in blindness and un- 
belief. 

Miss Barnwell, said he, you will insensibly lead me to 
believe the doctrines of election and reprobation, which I 
have looked upon to be so dishonourable to God, that I 
have frequently thought I could sooner become an atheist 
than believe them. They have always appeared to me 
to be unworthy of a merciful God, and discouraging to 
poor sinners. 



€61 



Their being discouraging to sinners, Sir, replied I, is 
in my humble opinion an excellency ; since they only dis- 
courage them from seeking to be justified by their own 
righteousness. They discourage no one from coming to 
God for mercy, as the prodigal went to his father, or from 
crying out with the publican, God be merciful to me a sin- 
ner. It is indeed a certain truth that the elect only will 
be saved ; but then it is also equally certain that whoso- 
ever believes the gospel, and applies to God for mercy, 
wiil be saved. 

The judge of the whole earth, said he, must do the 
thing that is right. Vain man would be wise and inde- 
pendent of his Creator. How little did I think that I should 
stoop to be taught by the daughter of Mr Barnwell ! God 
has determined that the loftiness of man shall be made 
low. Had I known but half what I do now, I should not 
have persecuted that amiable young lady But God has 
taken her to himself: henceforth may it be my ambition 
to follow her to the regions of immortality. 

I can say but little concerning Mr. Neville. He fre- 
quently rides about the fields, or walks in the wilderness. 
He speaks but seldom, seems averse to company, and when 
in the house is chiefly in his study. The loss of his daugh- 
ter is a stroke which he is scarcely able to bear. When 
he hears that his son and daughter, as well as his priest, 
have left the church of Rome, it is impossible to foresee 
what will be the consequence. Mr. William Neville and 
his sister desire their kind respects to you, as does, 
Dear Madam, your affectionate niece, 

MIRANDA BARNWELE. 



LETTER XLIX. 

From Signior Albino to Mr. Neville* 

MY VERY DEAR PATRON, 

T 

J- DID not think the time would ever arrive when I should 
dread a verbal communication of any thing I should have 



26Q 



to say to you ; yet that is now the case. You have blamed 
me with too much reason for being the cause of \ our daugh- 
ter's death : a daughter who had not her equal in the world; 
the guilt, the shame, and the sorrow, will be for ever mine. 

0 my dear friend, if you did but know how much I 
have suffered on that accouut, you would think me an ob- 
ject of your compassion. Alas, the deed is done never to 
be recalled, and I can only pray that the sin may not be 
laid to my charge ! 

My thoughts concerning that excellent young lady are 
the reverse of what they were. When the truths of God 
flowed from her lips, my heart was as hard as adamant, and 
my ears were like those of the deaf adder that will not at- 
tend to the voice of the charmer. 

You wished me, Sir, to read the correspondence between 
her and her friends, that I might be the more able to judge 
concerning the everlasting state of your justly beloved 
child. I acknowledge to my shame, that I complied with 
your request with a determination to reprobate every thing 
which it contained, entertaining no doubt of the truth of 
my own sentiments, and of the fallacy and damnable na- 
ture of theirs. 

1 accordingly read the whole and some of the letters se- 
veral times over: but how shall I relate the effect? I can 
never forget it. I soon perceived that my confidence had 
been equalled only by my ignorance ; and that, with the 
malice and rage of an infernal spirit, I have been crucify- 
ing Christ afresh in the person of my own child ; for so I 
esteemed your angelic daughter. 

I have no doubt, Sir, that you will, yea, that you have 
forgiven me : but I shall never forgive myself. Mine is a 
crime of the blackest dye ; and I should have been entirely 
without hope of forgiveness, if the providence of God had 
not informed me, through the same medium, that the 
blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin. I have been 
stripped of all my former confidence, and now lie as a beg- 
gar at the door of divine mercy. I ought to confess that 
it is doubtful whether I possess one sentiment of a religious 



263 



kind that I entertained before. Even the God I adored was 
the creature of my own imagination. It becomes me not? 
therefore, to expect better treatment from you, than your 
excellent child received from me. With what measure yc 
mete, said our Lord, it shall be measured to you again. 

I cannot contemplate religious establishments without 
horror. Christianity could never have been so corrupted, 
had it not been for the bloody alliance between church and 
state. Since I read the correspondence, I have read the 
New Testament, and am amazed that I could think myself 
a Christian, O thou despised Son of God, what reason 
hast thou to be ashamed of me, and of millions who are 
called by thy name ; Christians without thy spirit ; Chris- 
tians, ignorant of thy truth, ignorant of the first principles 
of thy soul-reviving religion ! What would I not do, what 
would I not suffer, if my friend could but see with my new 
eyes ! Though an old man, I am become a child. I am 
learning the rudiments of Christianity. Hitherto I have 
been a cumberer of the ground ; — an enemy to God, to 
Christ, to his Spirit, to his word, to his children. I ought 
to abhor myself in dust and ashes. 

Having been called at the eleventh hour out of Egypt, 
Babylon, and Sodom, to labour in the Lord's vineyard, I 
am under the greatest obligation to spend my little remain- 
ing time in glorifying him. The sacred volume shall be 
my only guide. Henceforth I will not engage in any reli- 
gious worship which is not clearly pointed out in the New 
Testament. Only prove to me, my dear Sir, that any doc- 
trine is taught, or any practice commanded in the oracles 
of truth, or that any form ot church government is re- 
corded in the New Testament to have been used by the 
apostles, and you shall find me all submission. I lately 
thought that I knew every thing, and that wisdom would 
die with me. I now desire to sit at the feet of the Saviour, 
and to learn of him. 

It is not every one who saith to the Redeemer, Lord, 
Lord, that will enter into the kingdom of heaven ; nor in- 
deed any but those who do the will of their Father who is 



204 



m heaven. If you should ask me where that wifl is reveal- 
ed, or who has made it known, almighty truth obliges me 
to confess, that we shall in vain look for it in the decrees 
©f popes or of general councils, or even in the fathers, 
and still less in tradition ; for I am convinced that these 
have all of them not only contradicted one another, but 
themselves likewise. 

The will of God, as it respects the faith and obedience 
of a Christian, is no where to be found pure and uncorrupt- 
ed except in the Scriptures : and there the way to the hea- 
venly Canaan is delineated so plainly that the wayfaring 
man, though a fool, cannot err therein. 

What would I not give to have my friend see things as 
I do now ? I pray continually for him, and that is all I 
can do. 

We have been educated in the bosom of error. There 
certainly is a way which seemeth right unto a man ; that 
w r ay we have trodden from our youth ; but the end there- 
of are the ways of death. 

What but the power of God could have overcome my 
prejudice ? That power could do it. When he works, the 
most obstinate resistance is like setting up thorns and bri- 
ars to oppose the progress of a devouring fire. 

I could not but write what I have written. I am at Mr. 
Grove's. If I do not there receive a letter of consolation, 
I do not know that I shall dare to see you or your family 
any more. I am, my ever dear patron, 
Your sincere friend, 

And very humble servant, 

' ANTOMO ALBINO 



LETTER L. 

From Mr, Xevzlle to Father Albino, 

MY DEAR FRIEND, 

I RECEIVED your letter, but never was more surpris- 
ed than when I read it. Is this, said I, that heroic chain- 



%6$ 



pion of the catholic church, who if he thought he had a 
drop of heretical biood in his heart would let it out ? How 
unstable a thing is man ! Well might my dear angel say 
to her persecuting sister, when she reproached her for 
changing her sentiments, It is not for mortals to say what 
they will do, or what they will be. 

I have been again reading the correspondence between 
my child and her friends. It breathes a divine spirit. O 
what a child L once had ! She was an unfit companion for 
you and me. She walked with God, like Enoch \ and he 
has taken her from a world which was unworthy of her. 
It is a sad consideration, that, like the kind and dutiful 
daughter of Jephthah, she should fall a sacrifice to the su- 
perstition of her own father. Her friends too are different 
persons from what I expected. I nave hitherto looked up- 
on protestants either as enthusiasts, or as men destitute of 
religion ; but it is wrong to judge of people in the gross. 
There are persons among them whose understanding and 
piety greatly exceed any thing I am acquainted with in our 
own church. We have, it is true, many whose zeal has 
led them to practise austerity and self-denial ; but my child 
would have told me, that mortification of the fiesh is no 
part cf holiness, unless it be practised in obedience to the 
divine precepts. And who can contradict this ? The catho- 
lic religion is sadly corrupted. One person has made one 
addition to divine revelation, and another has made another, 
tili the simple truth has been choked and smothered among 
the weeds. The annexing of princely revenues to the 
profession of Christianity, has excited worldly-minded men 
to struggle for the emoluments of the church ; and when 
they have come into office, the doctrines of the gospel 
have been corrupted to their carnal taste, and an ostenta- 
tious ceremonious religion has taken place of the plain, 
unadorned religion of Jesus Christ, This is what my 
de r Lusebia often toid us, and the same obvious truth is 
often repeated in the correspondence between her and her 
friends. Genuine Christianity must not be expected to 
flourish in a national church. It is no wonder that an es- 

Z 



366 

tablished clergy should generally, consist of worldly-mind- 
ed men, whose grand object of inquiry is, what may be 
gained by religion in this world, and not how they and 
their hearers may be saved in the world to come. 

How glad should I be if my son and daughter were what 
their dear sister was. I hope God will continue to make 
Miss Barnwell a blessing to my family. It was a kind pro- 
vidence that Maria sent for her when she was ill. I have 
heard of the treatment she has received from her father ; 
but I have no room to reproach him. However, I ought 
to be a father to her, especially as I am certain my dear 
Eusebia, if she were alive, would wish me to act in that 
manner. 

You seem to have written with fear and trembling ; but 
your letter was the most welcome one I ever received 
from you. I need not add to the above that I shall be glad 

to>see you* 

I am, my good friend, 

Most sincerely yours, 

JAMES NEVILLE, 



LETTER LI. 

From Mr, William Seville to Mrs. Worthington. 

DEAR MADAM, 

It is with great pleasure I inform you of a fresh instance 
of the goodness of God to me and my friends, because I 
know you will rejoice with me. 

Yesterday my father and I were alone. I am continual- 
ly thinking, said he, of your dear sister. I look at the 
places where 1 used to behold her, and immediately her 
lovely image presents itself to my view. I think I see 
her just as she was at St. Omer's, when on her knees she 
besought me for the love of Christ to have compassion on 
her. I was deaf to her entreaties and her tears. O that I 
had made my bed in the ocean with her ! But the rigate- 



267 



©us Judge of the earth has reserved tne to suffer the pu- 
nishment of my iniquity. My dear son, what do you think 
of the state of your sister ? I hope you think her salvation 
possible, notwithstanding she died out of the pale of the 
church. 

It afforded me great pleasure that my father began a dis- 
course of this kind with me when we were alone. I was 
anxious to inform him that I was a protestant, yet wished 
to do it by slow degrees, as I found him able to bear it. I 
therefore answered, that I had no doubt that the soul of 
my sister was in the divine presence, among the spirits of 
the just, and that I did not believe she did die out of the 
church. 

Not out of the church ? said he ; what evidence have 
you of that ? 

If, Sir, answered I, we suppose the church of Christ 
to be composed of his faithful servants, as undoubtedly it 
is, my sister, being one of them, must consequently be a 
member of his church. 

This appears to be good reasoning, said my father : but 
then have we not hitherto erred in supposing the church of 
Rome to be the only true church ? 

Have not you, Sir, replied I, often told us that some 
abuses have crept into the church of Rome, the amend- 
ment of which is rather to be desired than expected ? Her 
assertion that she is the only true church of Christ, I must 
confess I have long considered as an abuse of truth. 

What, said my father, have you long considered it in 
that light, or only since you conversed with your sister at 
St. Omer's ? 

It was my sentiment, Sir, replied I, long before I knew 
that it was her's. 

I am glad of it, said my father ; for it is an important 
truth, that all the servants of Jesus are his church - % wher- 
ever they may; be scattered, or by whatever name they may 
be known. 

I now perceived that my dear parent had read your and 
Miss Barnwell's correspondence with my sister. I there- 



£68 



fore told him it was to be lamented that he had not perceiv- 
ed so great a truth before, since it was a capital article 
wherein he had differed from my dear sister. 

Ah, my son, replied he, I wish I could recall one month : 
I should then be happy Bat it is gone for ever. 

I hope, Sir, said I, you will yet be happy : what you 
have done I know was with the very best intent. 

That is a poor excuse, replied he, except my intention 
had been regulated by God's word, or I had lived where 
the oracles of truth are unknown. In either of those cases 
the goodness of the intention would in some measure have 
palliated the action. But it was otherwise with me. God's 
mind and will are revealed in his word. This word was in 
my hand, and I ought to ha^e acquainted myself with it, 
and to have submitted to it without reserve. 

Your observation, Sir, is just, replied I; but as it is 
impossible to recall what is past, the only thing which re- 
mains is, for each of us to pray for the divine illumination, 
and, in dependence on God, to endeavour to lay aside our 
former prejudices, and to learn the whole of our faith and 
practice from his revealed will. Without doubt we may 
receive helps from other quarters : but we are command-? 
ed to call no man on earth father or master in these res- 
pects, nor to follow him one step further than he is a fol- 
lower of Christ. 
' O my son, replied my honoured parent, taking my hand 
and pressing it to his lips, thou art a blessing to my de- 
clining years. I only wish that I had profited by the 
modest hints thou gavest me in thy letters from St. 
Omer's, of the immoral lives of catholics, of that corrup- 
tion which has crept into the church by slow degrees, and 
of the necessity which there is that religious societies 
should frequently recur to first principles. The faith and 
practice of a Christian are no where so clearly delineated 
as in God's word: henceforth may it be the business 
of me and mine to draw living w T ater from those wells of 
salvation. 

I was greatly affected at this discourse. I have no 



269 

4oubt that my dear parent has profited by reading the cor- 
respondence between you, Madam, Miss Barftweii, .aid 
my sister ; but I desire to ascribe the glory to the divine 
Being, without whose almighty energy no instruction can 
be of any avail. 

We had much conversation beside what I have related. 
He told me of the amazing change that had taken place 
in the mind of Signior Albino, and also asked me whether 
I had had any religious conversation with Maria. I thought 
this a proper time to relate the whole without reserve. I 
told him the reason of my sister's sending for Miss Barn- 
well, and gave him copies of the letters which had passed 
between you, Miss Barnwell, and Maria, in his absence. 
He read them with great emotion, a tear now and then 
stealing down his cheek. My son, said he, I thank you 
for being so unreserved, and I thank God for the great 
mercy shown to my family : it is infinitely more than I 
deserve. I perceive that Maria was prepared to suffer for 
the sake of Christ ; and if God had not stopped me by the 
way, as he did Saul, my fellow-persecutor, it is probable I 
should have treated each of you as I did your dear sister. 
There is Miss Barnwell, continued he, who is a sufferer 
for holdiog faith and a good conscience ; I cannot consist- 
ently reproach her father, but with God's leave I will be 
a father to her. 

I blushed ; and the more I endeavoured to conceal my 
emotion, the less able I was to succeed. 

William, said my father, thou hast a face that will 
speak the truth. Wiiat may I not conjecture from those 
blushes ? 

I confessed that I had a regard for that lady on many 
accounts, but chiefly because she was a servant of Jesus 
Christ. I said that I had, however, determined not to go 
one step further than esteem, without first acquainting 
him. 

My father replied, that that was a becoming resolution ; 
and that children could not show greater marks of folly 
and disrespect to their parents, than bv fixing their aflfec- 

Z 2 



270 



tions and making overtures without their knowledge. You 
have made, ^ added he, a proper choice. 1 his young lady 
will have little or no fortune. If you also had none, that 
would be an objection to your union, as you have both 
been unused to labour. But as you, my son, will have a 
sufficiency, I do not perceive any thing which is likely to 
be a bar to your mutual happiness. 

Undoubtedly, Sir, answered I, there is always a necessi- 
ty for the exercise of prudence. Yet the man who already 
possesses wealth equal to the sphere in which he desires 
to move, ought to make a fortune wi n a wife the last and 
the least consideration. Miss Barnwell loves God, and is 
grateful, humble, sincere, modest, and discreet. She would 
neither be elated by prosperity, nor depressed by adversity. 
She is careful and diligent ; not a waster, nor fond of that 
fantastical levity which characterizes the women of the pre- 
sent day. These qualifications, I humbly apprehend, are the 
best portion a man can have with a wife. On the contrary, 
if a woman be destitute of the fear of God ; if she be proud, 
ignorant, and vain ; and if she cannot find any happiness 
in her own family, but from an idle indolent habit, spends 
one part of her time in dress, and the other in sauntering 
like the butterfly from place to place, no fortune can com- 
pensate for her defects. 

The present mode of educating children, said my father, 
is not calculated to make them good husbands or wives ; 
and indeed we cannot but perceive that ail ranks, from the 
palace to the cottage, have adopted such a luxurious and 
expensive way of living, that every one seems to vie with 
his neighbour who. shall be most extravagant. We ought 
not to wonder that so many gentlemen spend their estates, 
and that there are such numerous failures in trade. If a 
pei son will live to the extent of his income, no provision is 
made against the misfortunes which are liable to befall him, 
and which therefore will probably plunge him into inextri- 
cable difficulties. Extremes are bad: the golden mean 
ought to be preserved, Every person ought to. live below 



271 



his income, without tunning into sordid avarice on the one 
hand or profuse prodigality on the other. 

Alv father added, that he believed Miss Barnwell to be 
possessed of every qualification necessary to constitute a 
goo*' wife. But then, said he, are you certain that this lady 
is not already engaged I Or if she be not, do you know whe- 
ther she could esteem you ? 

No, Sir, replied I, I know neither the one nor the other, 
Biu being thus favoured with your approbation, I will en- 
deavour to learn bom from her own mouth. 

I soon went to your excellent niece, and had some con- 
versation with her. I please myself with the hope that she 
wiil not reject me. She has formed a prudent determina- 
tion not to take one step in a business of this kind without 
your approbation, nor without asking the consent of her fa- 
ther. It is by her permission that I write to you on the 
subject. My dear Miss Barnwell and my sister unite in 
most sincere respects to you with, 
Dear Madam, 

Your very humble servant, 

WILLIAM NEVILLE, 



LETTER LIE 

From Miss Barnwell to Mrs, Worthington* 

DEAR MADAM, 

I GAVE you an account in my last of the great change 
in Signior Albino. I have every day more and more rea- 
son to believe that he has passed from death unto lite. He 
is remarkably humble, and diffident of himself, and laments 
continually his being the cause, though indirectly, of the 
death of our dear friend. He told Mr. William Neville 
yesterday, that nothing less than the consideration of the in- 
finite dignity of the person of Christ, his spotless purity, 
and perfect atonement, could have kept him from despair. 



272 



I now, said he, remember the many things your sister said 
concerning the excellence of the knowledge of Jesus, and, 
when I look back, am amazed that I should be as ignorant 
as a heathen, with the oracles of God in my hand. 

I know, Madam, it will give you great pleasure to hear 
that Mr. Neville has read our correspondence with his 
daughter ; and that he has acknowledged to me that he 
believed the truth to be with us, and that he has hitherto 
put darkness for light, and light for darkness. There are 
many things, however, to which he can with difficulty as- 
sent ; and yet he does not know how to deny them. 

I remarked, that if the sublime truths of the gospel were 
agreeable to our native sentiments as fallen creatures, they 
would not stand in need of being impressed upon the heart 
by the mighty power of God. I instanced in the divinity 
of Christ, and endeavoured to show that men of science and 
erudition, who are accustomed to think closely upon every 
subject, if they profess themselves Christians, naturally fall 
into Arianism, or Socinianism ; it being contrary to the 
reasoning of depraved creatures that the everlasting Jeho- 
vah should come into this world at all, if we consider the 
small proportion which it bears to the solar system, and yet 
more so when we consider its nothingness in comparison 
of the universe. But, added I, when the Scriptures assert, 
not only that the most High came into our world, but that 
he was united to our nature, and that in that nature he ex- 
pired on the cross, we are not to wonder that philosophers 
and thinking men should call these hard sayings, and diffi- 
cult to be believed, or that they should strain every nerve 
to make revelation speak what is agreeable to their precon- 
ceived notions. Mr. Neville acknowledged the justice of 
my remark, and told me that he had had a good deal of 
conversation with his son and daughter, which indeed I al- 
ready knew, and that he unexpectedly but agreeably found 
they had embraced every sentiment of their sister. 

I have now to relate to my dear aunt an event in which 
the happiness of my life is considerably involved. Last 
Bight Mr. William Neville found me in his sister's closet. 



273 

After some conversation concerning the wonderful reli- 
gious change which has taken place in the family, and af- 
ter saying many obliging things to me, as he has likewise 
done at former times, he asked my permission to pay me 
his addresses. I blushed, and could not at first reply. Af- 
ter 1 had recovered a little from my confusion I said, that 
I was greatly obliged to him for his favourable opinion 
of me, and for his regard for an orphan almost destitute of 
friends, and entirely destitute of fortune ; that my aunt 
however had treated me with such parental and Christian 
tenderness, and felt such an interest in my happiness, that 
I could not make any answer till I had written to her ; nor 
till my father also had been applied to ; for that my duty 
to him was not cancelled by his unkind treatment of me.— 
To the propriety of these things Mr. Neville fully as- 
sented. 

It is unnecessary for me to conceal from you, my dear 
aunt, that I have for some time felt an uncommon regard 
for this amiable man. I struggled with my feelings, and 
endeavoured to persuade myself that it was nothing more 
than respect. If Mr. Neville had said nothing to me on 
the subject, I hope and believe that with the divine assist- 
ance my affection would have been kept within due bounds 
by my judgment ; but if that gentleman is to be my hus- 
band, it will no longer be my duty to repress it. And yet, 
now that he has disclosed his regard for me, I feel a strange 
kind of revolt, for which I do not know how to account, and 
which I cannot describe. 

I told Mr. Neville, that I did not doubt but he had pre- 
viously mentioned it to his father. He replied, that his fa- 
ther gave his most cordial consent, and spoke of me in the 
highest terms of affection and respect. 

I promised that I would write to you upon the subject ; 
and that I would at the same time request you to write to 
my father, without disclosing to him the name of the gen- 
tleman, or any thing concerning him, for which I said there 
would be no necessity, as his total unconcern about me 
would render him indifferent about the whole matter, 



274 

You will have the goodness, Madam, to do this, and to 
inform me of the result. If my dear aunt shall approve of 
the connexion into which I am likely to enter, it will be an 
additional happiness to 

Her most affectionate niece, 
MIRANDA. BARNWELL. 

LETTER LIXI. 
From Mrs. Worthington to Miss Barnwell. 

MY DEAR XIECE, 

I HAVE received your letter, and that of Mr. William 
Neville. The reason of my not having written before is, 
because I have been put so much out of my way that I 
have had but little comfort for this fortnight past. Your 
father has always been so very obliging to me, that I could 
do no less than ask him to be at my house. If he had been 
by himself, I could have done very well ; but Mrs. Barn- 
well and I are so different in almost every thing, that I dare 
say she has had no more satisfaction in my company than 
I have had in hers. 

One evening or two that Mr. Barnwell and she did not 
go to the play were spent at my house. She wanted very 
much to make a party at cards ; but I told her plainly there 
was no books of that kind in my library. Your father un- 
derstood me, and said, I thought, Madam, you had pos- 
sessed more liberal sentiments than to imagine with the 
vulgar that cards are the devil's books. I beg you will 
tell me what harm there is in playing a game at cards, any 
more than in taking a walk, or using any other recreation ; 
there can be nothing unholy in paint and pasteboard. Be- 
sides, I know many religious people who have no objection 
to a harmless game at cards. 

I have no doubt of it, Sir, said I : but then it is to be 
feared that there are many religious people who will no* 



275 



be admitted into heaven. The evil of cards does not pro- 
ceed from the materials of which they are made. They 
cause us to mis-spend much precious time, which might be 
better employed in profitable conversation. They also en- 
courage a spirit of covetousness, by making persons anx- 
ious to win the property of their neighbours ; and are fre- 
quently the occasion of indirect means being used for that 
purpose : the first is a breach of the tenth commandment, 
Thou shait not covet thy neighbour's goods ; and the last 
is a species of fraud bordering on robbery. For the same 
reason my husband would have nothing to do with lotte- 
ries, saying, that if God intended he should be rich, he 
had no doubt but he would direct him to such a way of ac- 
quiring wealth as would be conducive to his own glory and 
the good of society* 

But to return from this digression, Mrs. Barnwell thought 
cheating at cards a very venial sin indeed. What had peo- 
ple their eyes for ? and the address of a good player was 
only conspicuous by his cheating cleverly, and without de- 
tection. Ah, cried your father laughing, all gamesters are 
Spartans in that respect : they think there is no crime in 
robbery, but that all the guilt consists in being detected. 

When your father and I were alone, I told him that you 
had some expectation of proposals of marriage, and asked 
him what he intended to do for you. He replied, that if 
you had behaved well, and had accepted of Mr. Clifford, as 
he advised and even commanded you to do, he would have 
done something handsome ; but that he had been at great 
expenses since his marriage, and might possibly have a 
small family. It would be out of his power, therefore, to 
do any thing in his lifetime, and he would promise nothing 
afterward ; that should be as you behaved. 

I asked him whether he would give his consent to your 
marriage, if proposals should be made. O yes, he said, 
by all means ; you knew you had his consent to be or do 
or go what or where you would. I am sorry, said I, that 
you should possess so little regard for your child. I can 
assure you, however, that she has a dutiful and affectionate 



276 

regard for you ; and it is at her. request that I have pro- 
posed the matter tor your approbation, bhe may. do what 
she pleases, answered he ; I shall give myself no trouble 
about her. 

\ V ell, my dear Miranda, the promise of God is remark- 
ably made good to you, that when your father and mother 
forsake you, then the Lord will take you up. 1 was this 
day reading the case of Solomon, on whom, when he chose 
wisdom, God not only conferred that gift, but also every 
other inferior mercy ; and 1 could not help thinking the 
case of my dear child exceedingly similar. She chose the 
fear of the Lord, which is the true wisdom, and did not 
think it any hardship to lodge and board in a poor cottage ; 
and behold. He who has the property of this and every 
other world in his possession is exalting her far above 
what she would have had reason to expect if her father 
had given her all his possessions. 

I rejoice that Mr. Neville and Signior Albino are so far 
brought to the knowledge of the truth. I trust that he who 
has begun the good work will carry it on. 

I hope, my dear child, that you look back with wonder 
and gratitude upon the kind providence of God, by which 
you have been guarded and preserved all the days of your 
life ; and I trust that if you should be so happy as to be the 
wife of Mr. William Neville, you will grate MI y remem- 
ber the humble state from which he shall have called you, 
and endeavour by a frugal, discreet, and wise management 
in your family, to make some compensation for your want 
of fortune. There are too many instances in winch you?>g 
women, exalted from a state of poverty to a state of afriu. 
ence, have been the worst of wives. Price has made them 
giddy, and has caused them to run headlong into almost 
every excess : yea, they have frequently become vain on 
account of their imagined excellence, which they have 
had no other ground for supposing themselves to be pos- 
sessed oi than because theii husbands took t: em without 
fortunes. I cannot forbear saying that Mrs. Barnwell ma- 
nifests too much of this disposition ; for notwithstanding 



277 



your father married her without a shilling, and he is now 
engaged in an extensive chancery-suit, she spares for no 
expense. She has done little else bat go from one shop to 
another. I have been obliged to see all her cheap penny- 
worths ; for if I couid have believed her, she understood 
every thing so well, that she got the tradesmen's goods for 
less than they cost. It was with much reluctance she left 
London yesterday. The country, said she, is a wretched 
dull place : it is fit for nothing but to make people melan- 
choly. For my part, 1 am surprised that any people of con- 
dition can bear to live among a herd of rustics. — I should 
not have mentioned one of these particulars (for Mrs. Barn- 
well is far from being singular) had it not been with a view 
of directing you to sail a contrary course. 

I shall conclude with giving you a caution. Mr. Neville 
and his son speak very complaisant things to you, and of 
you. Beware, my child, lest you be intoxicated with praise ; 
for it is freo^iently poison poured into the ear, which con- 
taminates and pollutes the soul. You have many excellen- 
cies ; but 1 doubt not you have many defects. Learn there- 
fore more and more not to think of yourself above what 
you ought to think. Pray give my kind respects to Mr. 
William Neville and his sister, and Thomas and Mary 
Livingstone. I am, my dear niece, 

Your affectionate aunt, 

MARY WORTHINGTONc 



LETTER LIV. 

From Miss Barnwell to Mrs. Wort king ton. 

DEAR MADAM, 

I RECEIVED your affectionate letter, and was sorry to 
hear that my mother was so disagreeable to you : but I 
expected to hear nothing better concerning her. She is 
certainly an expensive woman, and thereby does herself 
an injury ; since she is wasting that which in all probabi- 



2/8 

lily she will need for her family. With regard to the 
severe speeches of my father, I am only sorry for his sake. 
It was predicted that parents would hate their children on 
the Redeemer's account, which is a strong proof of our na- 
tural enmity against God, or which is the same, against his 
gospel. But I have reason to bless God for his great 
goodness to me ; and I hope that the many renewed in- 
stances of his mercy will enable me to trust him in the 
darkest dispensations. 

I am not the less obliged to you, Madam, but it was un- 
necessary to ask my father to give me a fortune, I showed 
Mr. William Neville your letter, and he told me he would 
accept nothing from Mr. Barnwell but his daughter, and 
that he should think her a princely donation. I begged 
him to consider the caution in your letter, and told him, 
that I believed many a wife had been spoiled in courtship. 
The men, said I, endeavour to make them believe they 
are goddesses, and to persuade them how much they are 
devoted to their service. And when the matrimonial 
knot is tied, whatever the woman may have promised con- 
cerning honour and obedience to him who is now become 
her head, yet having been acknowledged a superior being, 
and the reins of government being put into her hands, she 
frequently, like other monarchs, will not lay them down 
again but per force. 

1 believe, Miss Barnwell, replied he, that what you say 
is true, and that it is dangerous to administer food to the 
pride either of ourselves or others. But I know that my 
dear girl will consider that I view her bright side only, and 
that all the praise I bestow upon her is in consequence of 
my comparing her with her fellow-mortals. She will 
compare herself with the divine law, which requires her 
to love the Lord her God with all her heart, and with all 
her soul, and her neighbour as herself; and then I will 
venture to say she will find no room to be proud. 

Last night, when we were all together, Signior Albino 
told us he had read the correspondence a third time, with 
great care, and he believed without prejudice* and that he 



£79 

is convinced the arguments against the catholic religion, 
merely as a national religion, are conclusive. But, ad- 
ded he, as it is not in this country the national religion, 
we have nothing to do but to leave out every thing, both 
in doctrine and in ceremonies, which has been added by 
the caprice of men, and which has no clear foundation in 
the word of God. 

And this, in fact, said Mr. Neville, will be doing nothing 
more than many sensible and pious catholics have sup- 
posed ought to be done. They despaired of its ever being 
done, because they thought it must be the work of such a 
multitude of persons, erroneously taking it for granted that 
a part could not be reformed without the whole. But 
surely it is right for us to do what we ought, let others do 
what they may. 

W e all cried out that we were willing to be catholics up- 
on this condition. It was agreed, therefore, that till we 
should have an opportunity of closely examining the New 
Testament, our worship in publie, in the family, and in pri- 
vate, should be as simple as possible ; and that we would 
rather be obliged to add what we might perceive to be ne- 
cessary, than be forced to lop off luxuriances. 

Mr. Neville desired that so good a w r ork might be begun 
that evening, asking the opinion of his son in what manner 
it should be conducted. 

I think, Sir, answered he, it would not be improper to 
read two or three chapters out of the Old and New Testa- 
ment, and to conclude w r ith prayer. This was the practice 
of a friend of mine in France. 

Should the prayer be with a form, or without one ? said 
father Albino. 

Without one, Sir, in my opinion, answered Mr. William 
Neville ; for we have many accounts in the word of God of 
prayer without a form, but not one instance of praying with 
one. 

This was acknowledged by all ; and my dear friend, at 
his father's request, began with reading the first chapter of 
Benesis, and the first and second chapters of Matthew, in- 



280 

tending to go through the whole in order. He concluded 
with a short, but solemn and pathetic prayer, in which he 
blessed God for opening our blind eyes, unstopping our 
deaf ears, and bringing us out of darkness into his marvel- 
lous light ; and prayed that he would perfect the mercy be- 
gun, and that he would give us his Spirit to lead us into all 
truth. He acknowledged our sins, and implored mercy 
in the name of Jesus Christ. And he finished with pray- 
ing for all the subjects of Christ's kingdom, and for its 
enlargement ; for our friends and enemies ; and for the 
nation and its rulers. Father Albino and Mr. Neville ac- 
knowledged, that they were persuaded that all ostentatious 
additions made by men to this unornamented worship, 
were as unnecessary as lighting candles to assist the sun ; 
and they blessed God for making them perceive the folly 
and wickedness of human inventions intended to make the 
religion of Jesus more perfect. 

You will be glad to hear, Madam, that Mr. Neville has 
made our friend Thomas Livingstone his bailiff, and also 
that, as the housekeeper is on the point of marrying, Mrs. 
Livingstone w ill have the offer of the place, for which shq 
is well qualified, as Thomas married her out of a gentle- 
man's family. Mr. Neville told me, that as they were 
friends to his daughter, he was determined to be a friend 
to them. But, added he with tears, much more so because 
they are the friends of the Redeemer. 

The mercy which God has shown to Miss Neville and 
her friends has had no small share in lessening her disor- 
der, w r hich was a good deal nervous. She is so well satis- 
fied, she says, of the safe arrival of her sister in the heaven- 
ly Canaan, that her grief on account of her death is mixed 
with joy. 

All my friends, when they know I am writing, desire 
their love to you. Mr. Neville and father Albino have 
spoken of you lately with great esteem. I can only add 
that I shall ever continue, 
Dear Madam, 

Your most affectionate niece, 

MIRANDA BARNWELL 



581 



LETTER LV. 
From Mrs. Worthing ton to Mr. William JVeviuc, 

MY DEAR SIR, 

The company of -Mr. and Mrs. Barnwell indisposed me 
for writing, or I should have acknowledged by the first 
post the receipt of your obliging letter. The great res- 
pect shown by your friends to my niece demands my best 
thanks ; and I hope the high regard you have manifested 
for her, will be repaid by the tenderest affection, the most 
cheerful submission, and a prudent economy ; and then 
you will have the less reason to regret that you did not 
-■marry a wife with a fortune equivalent to your own. I 
lately heard a gentleman say, that he could not afford to 
marry a wife with a fortune. For, said he, custom and 
education teach the ladies before marriage, to consider 
wealth as the one thing needful ; and after marriage, when 
they are freed from the restraint of their parents, elegant 
houses, superb carriages, and an imitation of genteel peo- 
ple, are what the husband must indulge them in, or he 
must seek that happiness abroad which he will in vain 
seek for at home. If I thought my niece were not in dis- 
position the very reverse of such young persons, I could 
not wish her to be the wife of Mr. William Neville, 

Mr. Charles Clifford called yesterday morning to see 
me, or rather to inquire whether I had heard any thing 
more concerning our dear Eusebia. He was just come 
from Ireland when the news arrived of her shipwreck, and, 
being overcome with grief, he and his man immediately 
took horse, and visited all the towns upon the coast, both in 
England and France, hoping to hear something of her ; but 
in vain. He then went to St. Omer's, where he found se- 
veral persons who were acquainted with you, but couid not 
gain any intelligence concerning your sister. He was 
there at the time the Bastile was destroyed, and would 
have visited Paris at thai eventful period, if his grief for 



£8£ 



the loss of your sister had not swallowed up every other 
consideration. 

Mr. Clifford has recommended himself to my esteem, 
both by his great affection for your sister, and by the unaf- 
fected piety that adorns his conversation. Yesterday in the 
afternoon at tea, after we had been discoursing- of his being 
confuted by Eusebia, O Madam, cried he, it is not a desir- 
able thing to be a deist or an atheist ; such persons are of 
all men the most miserable. 

True, Sir, replied I ; and there is no important differ- 
ence between deism and atheism, the god of the deist be- 
ing an unknown god, which is no god at all. Had you no 
thoughts of religion, Sir, continued I, before your conver- 
sation with Miss Eusebia Neville and my niece ? 

Yes, Madam, answered he, I had. My mother, wba^ 
was a pious woman, had endeavoured to store my infantile 
mind with divine knowledge, in consequence of which my 
conscience many times severely reproved me upon the 
commission of sin, and the neglect of prayer. Her death, 
which happened in my tenth year, was a great misfortune 
to me. When I came from school, I had no one to coun- 
sel me respecting religious duties, and I became more and 
more remiss, and at last totally regardless of them. At 
Oxford, however, providence so ordered it that I became 
acquainted with a very religious youth, by whose entreaty 
and example I was induced to enter upon a new course of 
life. I resolved to sin no more against God ; to watch 
over my thoughts, words, and actions ; and to be constant 
in my attendance upon divine worship, and in private 
prayer. Many, very many failures, exceedingly discourag- 
ed me. I again became remiss ; after a while I consorted 
with those who had no religion ; and at last was the fore- 
most among those who derided it. 

I doubt not, Sir, said I, but there were many steps be- 
fore you entirely cast off the fear of God, and sat in the seat 
of the scornful. 

So many, Madam, replied he, that time would fail me to 
relate one half of the gradations by which I arrived at athe* 



283 



ism. Yet I am obliged to acknowledge, that in all the dif- 
ferent stages I trusted in my own righteousness, and was 
as ignorant of the design of Christ's coming into the 
world as a savage of the desert. I first added Arianism to 
Arminianism, in consequence of my falling into the com- 
pany of one of that persuasion. That the Messiah was a 
demi-god, or secondary Jehovah, did not shock my reason 
so much as his true and proper deity. I also found, that 
both the ancients and moderns, who maintained that doc- 
trine, varied in their ideas concerning it. 

So you gave up, Sir, said I, the scriptural doctrine of 
the deity of the Messiah, because the defenders of it are 
not perfectly agreed how. the Father, Son, and holy Spirit, 
are the one Jehovah. But you might have considered, 
that notwithstanding the eternity of God is an indubitable 
truth, yet a comprehension of the nature of existence from 
eternity cannot be attained either by angeis or by men. 
Many things are clearly revealed, for which we can assign 
either no reason at ail, or at best, reasons that are unsatis- 
factory. Wherefore did not God prevent sin from entering 
into the new creation ? And why did he bring Cain, Judas, 
and many others into existence, when he knew that it 
would be infinitely to their disadvantage ? Yet shall we de- 
ny these certain things, because we cannot reconcile them 
with the goodness, mercy, and compassion of God, which 
are equally certain I Is it right to suppose, because our 
Creator has given us minds and abilities wonderfully capa- 
cious, that they are infinite ? and yet they must be infinite, 
to comprehend him who is infinite. When God visited 
his creatures, it was to be expected that questions would 
be proposed by inquisitive mortals relative to so wonderful 
an affair, which an angel could not answer. But how long, 
Sir, did you continue in this rational religion ? 

I soon became acquainted, replied he, with several So- 
cinian gentlemen, who undid all that my x\rian friends had 
been doing. They endeavoured to prove, that Jesus was 
nothing more than a prophet commissioned by God to in- 
struct mankind, and that he died a martyr to the truth of 



284 



his doctrine. They either plausibly explained away the 
obvious meaning of the many passages of Scripture which 
opposed their hypothesis, or they at once rejected them as 
interpolations ; and 1 as readily embraced a scheme, which 
lowered down to almost nothing a religion that I had the 
greatest reason to believe was not very favourable to me. 
After this I met with a gentleman who endeavoured to set 
aside the divinity of Christ in a summary way, namely, by 
attempting to prove that the far greatest part of the New 
Testament is spurious. 

To have done his work effectually, interrupted I, he 
should have proved that the greatest part of the Old Tes- 
tament is spurious likewise ; since the deity of the Messi- 
ah is as much the subject of the prophetic writings, as of 
the apostolic. When you were making such progress, I 
doubt not but you soon arrived at the end of your journey. 

Indeed, Madam, I did, answered Mr. Clifford : I pre- 
sently fled from an accusing conscience, by giving up the 
whole as a volume contrived by priests for the purpose of 
keeping the ignorant multitude in awe, and of picking their 
pockets. 

It has indeed, said I, been used to accomplish those pur- 
poses. A far nobler purpose, however, has been unremit- 
tingly pursued by its great Author. Not that its perver- 
sion has been without its use. Almost the whole of the 
book of Revelation is a prophetic description of the corrup- 
tion of Christianity by its being made a state religion. This 
corruption of Christianity therefore, is a proof of its truth, 
and such a proof as the first Christians could not possibly 
possess. — But, Sir, how did you go on after you had silen- 
ced the Old and New Testament ? 

Alas, Madam, cried he, I can testify to the truth of 
what is asserted in divine revelation, that there is no peace 
to the wicked. From that moment I would thankfully 
have changed condition with my dog or my horse Every 
-step to this state of unbelief and uncertainty was from bad 
to worse, till I plunged headlong into that guif from which 
nothing but an almighty arm could extricate me. 



285 



Did you never, said I, pray all this while ? 

I thought, replied he, that if I had attempted to pray, 
i the earth would have opened, and swallowed me up. Yet, 
I remember that I stopped short once as I was walking, 
and, looking up to heaven, cried out, O God, if thou wilt 
save me, thou mayest ; but I dare not ask it. I endea- 
voured by travelling and company to sooth my melancho- 
ly, and sometimes succeeded. I endeavoured to fortify 
myself in unbelief by the consideration, that a great part 
of the wise and learned, both at home and abroad, have 
long viewed it as a proposition already demonstrated, and 
needing no farther proof, that the Scriptures are calculated 
only for the meridian of the vulgar. I also looked upon 
Christians as far worse than Mahometans or pagans, and 
as answerable for all the blood which has been spilt on a 
religious account. 

I think I know, Sir, said I, who confuted you when you 
advanced these sentiments. 

Yes, Madam, replied he, it was one too good for this 
world, and who has therefore been called to the abodes of 
the blessed. That night is a night never to be forgotten. 
It was late when I reached home. Sitting down in the 
apartment of our steward, who is a pious man, I careless- 
ly opened a book which lay there, and finding it to contain 
some sermons by Mr. Whitefield, determined to read a 
discourse upon Eccles. vii. 16, Be not righteous overmuch^ 
Sec. 1 said to myself, I am certain that I am righteous 
little enough ; and I was so ignorant as to suppose that it 
was a dissuasive from over-strictness in religion. Upon 
reading it, I for the first time had a view of salvation by 
Jesus Christ ; and an affecting view it was. It was too 
much for me to bear. I saw that every divine perfection 
centers in the Redeemer, and that he is the great atoning 
Sacrifice prefigured by all the sacrifices under the law. I 
was convinced that all my former attempts to please God 
were strange fire, idolatry, and self-dependence, and were 
not commanded in the oracles of truth. The glory that I 
saw in Christ left me no choice whether I would or would 



2S6 



not trust in him. He appeared to me a precious Saviour, 
and the only physician of my soul. I prayed for the first 
time, in short and broken sentences, but with floods of 
tears ; and my God heard, and delivered me out of the 
prison of Satan, out of the pit where there was no water, 
from the confines of hell I bless God that he has hither- 
to preserved me from relapsing into my former infidelity, 
which of all evils I the most feared. 

I rejoice with you, Sir, said I, that God has delivered 
you from that dreadful state. Having received much 
mercy, I hope you will be enabled to love much, and to 
manifest your gratitude by an obediential regard to the re- 
vealed will of God. You will remember the great price 
that was paid for your redemption, and the felicity winch 
awaits the Christian in another world. What greater mo- 
tives can be conceived than these to holiness of heart and 
lire ? The divine hand is visible in all you have related. 
You were at first convinced that you were a sinner, and 
you did not wish that God should be your enemy : you 
therefore attempted to serve him with a self-righteous, 
self-dependent obedience ; but your devotion bore no re- 
semblance to true religion. God, in great mercy, and in 
faithfulness to your soul, laid the reins on your neck, anA 
suffered you first to embrace Arianism, then Socinianism, 
and at last Deism. The whole of this procedure was in- 
tended to humble you ; to remove every incentive to boast- 
ing ; and to induce you to exalt the sovereign mercy of 
God, in saving and calling you with a holy calling, not ac- 
cording to your works, but according to his own purpose 
and grace, which was given you in Christ Jesus before the 
world began. 

I asked Mr. Clifford whether he had had any conversa* 
lion with his father on this subject. 

He answered in the affirmative. But you well know, 
Madam, said he, that my father has long been destitute of 
the very form of godliness. I notwithstanding besought 
him to consider, that very soon, according to the course 
of nature, he must exchange time for eternity ; and I 



287 



pointed out to him the blood of Christ as sufficient to 
cleanse the soul from sins of the deepest dye. It had 
however no effect. Every thing 1 said, whether concern- 
ing the joys of heaven, the torments of hell, the necessity 
©f holiness, or the folly of a wicked life, were the objects 
of his derision. He said that I should soon be tired of my 
plaything, and should throw it away as other children do 
theirs, — Now I had known several instances of men who 
had made a very warm, not to say a very violent profession 
of religion, who yet after a while grew cool, went back 
into the world, and became more remiss than they had 
been before. I therefore retired into my closet, and im- 
plored my heavenly Father that he would never suffer me 
to leave him. I earnestly desired that he would rather 
deprive me of my life, since nothing less than lifting up 
my eyes in hell could be more dreadful to me than the 
thoughts of relapsing into my former infidelity. 

The fears of Christians, replied I, are given them for 
their security, and are a fulfilment of the promise made by 
God concerning his children, / will put my Jear in their 
hearts^ that they shall not depart from me. Other means 
of security have also been appointed. Christians ought 
not to pursue a solitary plan, and to have respect to no 
one's advantage but their own. On the contrary, being 
born of the same Spirit, and being children of the same 
family, and travellers to the same country, it is their duty 
to be united together in the fellowship of the gospel, to 
pray with and for each other, to hear the Scriptures read 
and explained, to remember the death of Christ by par- 
taking of bread and wine in fellowship, and thus as a body 
to become the pillar and ground, or the support of the 
truth. 

I acknowledge, Madam, answered he, that persons who 
are in the kingdom of Christ ought to conform to its laws : 
but to those who enter into a foreign country, time must 
be allowed for learning the laws of the country I have 
conversed with several sincere friends of the Redeemer, 
who evidently appear to have the Spirit of Christ. One 



288 



says to me, Mr. Clifford, as God has magnified his mercy in 
your conversion, I hope you will not leave the church of 
England, as too many in the same case do. God is evident- 
ly with us. A great number of gospel ministers have been 
sent to kbour in this vineyard in the last fifty years ; and 
if there are faults in the church, the dissenters are not per- 
fect. — Another gentleman, who is a Baptist, said to me 
lately— as God appears to have given you a place among 
his children, it becomes you to prove your love to Christ 
by obeying his commandments, and to begin with putting 
on the Lord Jesus Christ by baptism, Examine, therefore, 
whether ye be not at present unbaptized. — Another gentle- 
man, a Paedobaptist, after some religious conversation that 
I had with him yesterday said to me — you must come, Sir, 
among us. You will never be happy in the church of 
England, which in fact, is no other than a popish church 
in some measure reformed. The church of Rome is un- 
der the direction of the pope and cardinals. The church 
of England is under the direction of the king, lords, and 
commons ; and the bishops, (who are put into that office 
by the king,) and the inferior clergy in convocation as- 
sembled, cannot alter one tittle of the creeds, articles, cere- 
monies, or prayers, without an act of parliament for that 
purpose. Although the great majority of the English 
clergy are Arminians, Arians, and Socinians, they sub- 
scribe articles which they do not pretend to believe ; and 
many of them repeat every week prayers which in their 
opinion are blasphemous. They nevertheless cry up the 
excellence of the church, and are unwilling that a stone 
should be displaced or altered in this tottering fabric, lest 
the whole should fail into ruins : for they prudently consi- 
der that it keeps them warm and dry ; and that if the cel- 
lars and pantries, which are the most commodious parts of 
the building, were to be rebuilt, they could not be made 
better than they are. — I replied to my friends who thus ex- 
tolled their respective modes of religious worship, that I 
had infinite reason to be thankful that my eyes had been 
opened to behold the glory of God shining in the face of 



289 

the Redeemer ; but that I knew at present very little more 
of Christianity than this, that the blood of Jesus Christ 
cleanseth from all sin; and that I must walk with wary 
step, and read and pray over my Bible before I ventured 
to join myself to any society of Christians, because, not- 
withstanding there are good men in every society, yet 
Christians are too apt to overrate the comparative excel- 
lence of their own society, and to underrate that of others. 

I commended Mr. Clifford for his intention of learning 
the whole of his religion from the Scriptures, and particu- 
larly recommended the New Testament. 

But why, Madam, cried he, the New Testament rather 
than the Old ? Do they not both teach the same doctrine, 
hold forth the same atonement, and contain the same truths 
in every respect, except that the one was the shadow, and 
the other the reality ? Were not the sacrifices offered un- 
der the law the gospel preached to the Israelites ? and was 
not Aaron in his royal and priestly vestments the type of 
our great High Priest I 

All this, Sir, I grant, replied I ; yet a bad use may be 
made of the best things. If, for instance, you were to ask 
the man of sin, arrayed in his royal and priestly robes, sit- 
ting upon his throne in the temple of God, and showing 
himself that he is God, or exercising power which God has 
delegated to no one, what scriptural authority he has for 
this, he would immediately cite the example of Aaron, the 
Levidcal high priest. Paul saw that the tendency of Ju- 
daizing in his day, was to make the cross of Christ of none 
effect ; and yet at that early period, Judaizing Christians- 
had made but little progress. When that bitter plant had 
grown to his height, the man of sin had grown to his 
height also. And ycu may depend upon it, that Icrdly do- 
mination, enthroned bishops, Aaronical vestments, the sa- 
crifice of the mass, and altars resembling the altars under 
the law, will all fall together : yes, they will fall like a mill 
stone into the sea, never to rise any more, to the great 
grief of those spiritual merchants who have long trafficked 
in the souls of men. 

2 B 



290 

You have not mentioned tithes, Madam, said he. 

Nor many other things, replied I. There being no 
command in the New Testament for the payment of 
tithes, when a proof of the divine right of tithes is required, 
they have recourse to the same authority as for the other 
fatal additions which have been made to Christianity. 

Popery, Madam, said he, diners but little from pagan- 
ism ; and I thus account for it. When statesmen and 
bishops jointly undertook the work of conversion, and 
whole nations were at once to be made Christians, they 
found it necessary to consult the temper of the people, who 
had been accustomed to worship departed heroes, and to 
observe feats in commemoration of them, accompanied 
with clivers sports and athletic exercises ; so that it is a 
matter of doubt whether the pagans were converted to 
Christianity, or the Christians to paganism. 

That Christianity has been exceedingly corrupted, re- 
plied I, is evident. To avoid the corruptions of it as much 
as possible, let us endeavour to follow the faith, the prac- 
tice, and the exhortations of the apostles, so far as God 
shall enlighten our understanding. If this determination 
be accompanied with prayer, and with a mind open to con- 
viction, our errors will not be very pernicious. In things 
which are doubtful we must decide for ourselves in the 
best manner we are able, leaving others to do the same, 
without any breach of charity. Some indeed would extend 
this charity to those who reject all the capital truths of the 
gospel, inferring from the doubtfulness of some things that 
nothing is certain. There are however, things certain, as 
well as things doubtful. It is certain, for instance, that the 
Messiah is the one Jehovah, and that beside him there is 
no God : but what it is which constitutes the specific dif- 
ference between the Father, the Son, and the holy Spirit, 
is a matter of doubtful disputation. For my own part, I 
consider each of those sacred persons as the one Jehovah ; 
and in this my Bible abundantly confirms me. But when 
I attempt curiously to pry any further, I find many difficul- 
ties which I cannot solve. The same- may be said con- 



CO 1 

cerning the prescience of God, his decrees, his permission 
of sin, and many other things. I do not perceive the im- 
propriety of investigating these things with reverence and 
"humility, provided we do not make our own conjectures, 
articles of faith, and anathematize our brethren for not see- 
ing with our eyes. 

I should think, Madam, said Mr. Clifford, we have no 
right to anathematize any persons, how wrong soever 
they may be ; since to their own master they stand or tall. 

True, Sir, answered I, we have not. But if God in his 
word pronounce an anathema against those who pervert the 
gospel, or who love not the Lord Jesus Christ, we ought to 
credit it : and where persons appear to us, upon serious 
rejection, to answer to these descriptions, we ought, on 
proper occasions, in love to their souls, to apprise them 
that they are in a state of imminent danger. This is not 
antichristian highchurch bigotry ; it is not assuming a lord- 
ly domination over the faith of others ; but it is charity, or 
love to the souls of men. It is endeavouring to save our- 
selves and those who hear us. 

This, Sir, is the substance of our desultory conversation ; 
and if there be any thing in it which will repay the trouble 
of reading it, I have my reward. It gave me pleasure ; 
for next to my own salvation, nothing affords me greater 
satisfaction than to see a sinner rescued from everlasting 
destruction. 

When you have leisure, I shall be glad to hear in what 
manner your conversion was effected. I am the more 
anxious to know this, because, by being sent into a popish 
country to complete your education, you were placed in a 
very unfavourable situation for becoming a protestant. 

I must close this long letter with wishing you and my 
dear niece every blessing, if God in his providence should 
unite you. My best wishes attend your valuable father, 
Signior Albino, Miss Neville, and Thomas Livingstone, 
and his wife. 

Believe me to be, Dear Sir, 
Your sincere friend, 

MARY WORTHINGTOX. 



oca 

LETTER LVL 
From 31r. William Neville to Mrs. Worthingion. 

BEAR MADAM, 

I RECEIVED your obliging letter, and rejoice to hear 
that God has delivered Mr. Charles Clifford out of the 
dreadful state which he described to you. We all feel 
ourselves exceedingly obliged to him for the concern he 
has shown for our dear Eusebia. I showed my father your 
letter, and he determined to wait upon him, that he might 
hear him relate where he had been to inquire after my 
sister, and that he might tell him how much we all con- 
sidered ourselves obliged to him. 

Yesterday morning I accompanied my father to Poplar 
Grange, where we found the elder Mr. Clifford, Mr. and 
Mrs. Barnwell, and Mr. Law the rector of Barnwell ; but 
unhappily Mr. Charles Clifford was not at home. The 
old gentleman insisted upon our dining with him ; and we 
the more readily complied, that we might hear what Mr. 
Barnwell would say about my dear Miranda. He was 
silent about her till Mrs. Barnwell said after dinner to my 
father, I suppose, Sir, Miss Barnwell intends to come 
home no more. She may think that we shall entreat her 
to return, but she is much mistaken : she is very unduti- 
iul, I assure you. As she was an only child, Mr. Barnwell 
has humoured her till he has spoiled her ; and I tell him 
he must take it for his pains. 

Truly, Sir, said Mr. Barnwell, I once thought her eo^al 
to any one, both in person and mind ; but the girl is be- 
come a fool. I have been informed that she lodges at 
old Livingstone's the hedger, and I have since heard that 
she is sometimes at your house. My sister Worthington 
told me that she was about to be married ; but I did net 
ask to whom, as I suppose it was to some beggar like- 
he r self. 

Here Mr. Law took upon himself to help Mr. Barnwell 



293 

out, by saying that Mr. and Mrs. Barnwell were undoubt- 
edly justly offended with her for keeping company with 
low people, the scum of the earth, and for not submit- 
ting to that authority which God and nature gave a parent 
over his children. 

Had I given way to my feelings, I should have said 
something very severe to the rector. But I thank God 
that I maintained a proper government of my temper ; 
for persons, when they are angry, seldom do or say any 
thing of which they have not afterward cause to repent. 

My father said in reply to Mr. Law, that he had been 
acquainted with Miss Barnwell from her infancy, and that, 
except the common foibles of childhood and youth, he had 
not observed any thing in her conduct or manners which 
did not recommend her to his esteem. With regard to 
you, Mr. Barnwell, said he, I fear there is something 
blameable in your conduct to your daughter. This sus- 
picion flows from your own confession ; for I assure you 
Miss Barnwell has never mentioned you to me, but with 
the respect due to a parent. You have intimated pretty 
plainly that you have no concern for her welfare ; or 
rather you have demonstrated it, by affirming that you 
have no desire to know any thing about the person who 
wishes to make her his wife. If he should be a person in 
low circumstances, you seem to suppose that she will have 
sunk into the depth of misery. But why should you think 
so ? If her husband be an honest, industrious, and reli- 
gious man, he may render her happy, and be a suitable 
husband for her, if you are determined to disown her as 
you seem to be. Provided he be a man of that descrip- 
tion, if you will do nothing for them, I will give them 
something to begin the world with. 

Sir, you are very kind, replied Mr. Barnwell, and I 
know, mean the best. At the same time I cannot think it 
quite right that children should be encouraged to be diso- 
bedient to their parents. She knew that she would be wel- 
come to my house, if she came with a determination to 

2 B 2 



294 

be obedient. A child of mine shall not cast off my autho- 
rity, while under my roof. 

Pray, Sir, said my father, what is her specific crime ? 
It is possible I may be a mediator between you. I have 
only heard in general terms from Mr. Law that she keeps 
company with the scum of the earth. If that be the case, 
undoubtedly, Sir, you have great reason to be dissatisfied ; 
and I myself shall think her a very improper companion 
for my children, lest they should be corrupted by her evil 
example. 

I am afraid, Sir, you misunderstand me, replied Mr. 
Law; by the scum of the earth I did not mean wicked 
persons, but persons in mean circumstances. 

According* to this definition, Sir, said my father, the 
same opprobrious appellation might be given to Christ and 
his apostles ; for they were persons in mean circumstan- 
ces. The same also might be said of Socrates, of Epicte- 
tus, and of the wise and virtuous Cincinnatus, who was 
called from the plough to be a Roman Dictator. I am 
amazed, Sir, that you who are a minister of the meek and 
lowly Jesus, should call the virtuous poor the scum of the 
earth. 

Mr. Law, Sir, answered Mr. Barnwell, only intended 
to show the impropriety of my daughter's keeping compa- 
ny with persons so much below her. 

True Sir, said Mr. Law ; and I maintain that she not 
only acts imprudently in so doing, but that to imprudence 
she adds disobedience to her parent, who insisted upon 
her promising that she w r ou!d not go among that kind of 
people any more. 

Is going among poor people, Sir, replied my father, a 
crime of so black a dye ? This surely you cannot mean to 
insinuate. The crime, if there be any, must lie in the 
Qccasion of her going to see them. Was it to do them 
good or to injure them ? 

Sir, cried Mr. Clifford, I believe I must unravel this af- 
fair, since I perceive my friends cannot persuade them- 
selves to tell you the plain truth. The case is this. Miss 



2yJ 

Barnwell was left at Islington with her aunt, who is a dis- 
senter, while her father w T ent to Jamaica, and she cannot 
be satisfied now unless she is permitted to go to the meet- 
ing. And ought we to wonder at it ? I tell my friend 
Barnwell that he is certainly in the fault ; for if it is a 
crime to go to a dissenting meeting-house, why did he 
leave her with a dissenter? For my part, however, I see 
no evil in it : for though they are in general poor people 
who attend the meeting in country villages, yet they are 
the sober and industrious poor. 1 do not mean to reflect 
upon Mi\ Law : but if you examine the character of the 
poor people throughout the kingdom, and find a poacher, a 
hedge-breaker, a hen-rocst robber, or one that goes to no 
place of worship above three or four times in a year, you 
may almost take it for granted that he is a churchman. I 
believe none of you will accuse me of being prejudiced in. 
favour of any religious sect ; yet I cannot help perceiving 
that the poor among the dissenters, in general, are per- 
sons of understanding, decent, industrious, civil, sober, 
and valuable members of society. If dissenting teachers, 
without the aid of government, have the art of civilizing a 
considerable part of the labouring poor, 1 think the whole 
nation is obliged to them. 

I have no dislike to dissenters, said Mr. Barnwell. I 
would have every person go to that place to which he has 
been accustomed : but my pride will not suffer me to per- 
mit my daughter to associate with such low people. 

It seems, Sir, replied my father, I have at last discover- 
ed your daughter's unpardonable fault, Being influenced 
by the just fear of him who made her, and knowing that 
she as well as you and I must soon stand before his judg- 
ment-seat, she wished to act agreeably to her conscience, 
and to spend her sabbaths where she at least thought she 
heard the gospel of Jesus Christ. Indeed, friend Barn- 
well, you have acted not merely improperly, but with 
great inhumanity. Your child asked for nothing but what 
the laws of God, of rea.son, and of her country ahowed, 
and you yourself also would have allowed, as you ackncw- 



29t> 

ledge, only on account of your pride. I have heard of the 
wicked, in his pride, persecuting the poor, and of people 
being deceived by the pride of their heart : but I never 
heard that pride made a person wise. In reality there is 
not a man upon earth whose folly is not equal to his pride. 
Discard, therefore, this troublesome inmate, and be per- 
suaded to think that you will be wise and happy in propor- 
tion as you are humble. 

Is there no such thing* then, Sir, cried Mrs. Barnwell, 
as a virtuous pride I 

I have heard of such a thing, replied my father, but I 
scarcely know what it is. Pray, Madam, how would you 
define it ? 

W hy, Sir, replied she, hesitating, a virtuous pride is — 
is — a virtuous pride. 

Mrs. Barnwell means, Sir, said Mr. Law r , that there is 
a propriety to be observed in all our actions, and that eve- 
ry person ought to keep up his dignity by associating with 
none but those of his own rank. Miss Barnwell was not 
only born in one of the higher orders of the community, 
but has had a genteel education, and is a lady of good na- 
tural sense, and of considerable reading. It is truly as- 
tonishing that she could so far underrate her own judg- 
ment, as to suppose she could learn any thing from a fel- 
low, who, a few years past, was only a shoemaker. It is 
undoubtedly a species of insanity, that persons, at least of 
her rank and education, should leave their parish church, 
to hear an undigested harangue, delivered by a fellow, 
who, I should suppose, does not understand the common 
rules of grammar. Are not gentlemen of a liberal edu- 
cation, intended for the ministry-, and regularly ordained, 
better qualified to teach Christianity than an ignorant me- 
chanic ? 

With Mr. Neville's leave, said Mr. Clifford, I will an- 
swer this question. My father assenting, he thus began : 
if, Sir, I had a son whom I wanted to be taught the lan- 
guages, mathematics, logic, metaphysics, Sec. I certain- 
ly should send him to you rather than to jjie shoemaker : 



297 

but if I sincerely wished him to be made a Christian, I 
should prefer the cobbler to you. I have had a liberal edu- 
cation myself: yet who that knows me would think of 
sending their children to me to be taught Christianity ? 
They perhaps might prefer your teaching, Sir, to mine. 
The reason is, I am too honest for this world. I don't pro- 
fess to be any thing but what I am. I have not that world- 
ly wisdom, that necessary prudence, which many have, 
and so I am termed an infidel. I accept the appellation, 
I put on the cap, because I know it fits me. Yet, Sir, if 
any man were to dare to telf mc that I am not as good a 
Christian as you, or as nine tenths of those who are brought 
up to the art and mystery of preaching, I should be highly 
offended. If you ask why I think thus ? I answer, that any 
fool may know what is told him. You all tell me that you 
don't believe the Scriptures, or nine tenths of you at least, 
as I said before. You tell this to me, and to all the world, 
by your actions, which are better proofs than words. If 
you believed a heaven or a hell, w r ould you dare solemnly 
to subscribe articles which you do not believe, or pretend 
to give your unfeigned assent and consent to them for the 
lucre of a paltry living ? I could not myself do it, infidel as 
I am ; and if I had done it, I would throw up my prefer- 
ments, and restore my ill-gotten goods, as many worthy 
men hate done. To subscribe one set of doctrines, and to 
preach another, is the greatest prevarication. The cler- 
gy indeed tell us that the sin lies with them who require 
subscription. But I do not think so ; for if you take the 
wages, you ought to do the work your masters set you 
about. The conscience of those surely is not very scru- 
pulous, who for the sake of gain declare their belief of 
things which they do not believe, and then try to fasten 
the guilt upon those who hold out the temptation. Call 
the articles which you are obliged to subscribe, articles of 
peace, or by whatever name you choose, falsehood is false- 
hood still, and will be so to the end of the world, however 
it may be gilded and adorned to silence the clamours of 
conscience, Besides, my friend, your religion and the re- 



2t)8 

ligioa of Jesus are two different religions. Only endeavour 
to convert a Jew to Arianism or Socinianism, and he will 
tell you as I do, that you are no Christian. 

Observe I do not blame you for disbelieving the articles ; 
but I blame you for declaring that you believe them when 
you do not, and for exclaiming against the poor shoema- 
ker, who I doubt not does believe them. I have long con- 
sidered Christianity as a fortress built for the protection of 
tyranny ; the dignified and benificecl clergy are its officers, 
the poor curates are the common soldiers. Hence pro- 
ceeded that wise proverb, No bishop, no king ; that is, no ty- 
rant : for a good and patriotic king stands in need of no 
such aid. 

Come, come, Mr. Clifford, cried my father, you are 
too severe upon the clergy. 

0 no, Sir, replied he, Mr. Law knows I cannot help 
speaking the truth, and he has long ceased to be offended 
at any thing I say. It is reasonable that it should be so ; 
for he knows that he is at full liberty to say any thing to 
me, provided he speak the truth. 

Mr. William Neville, said Mr. Clifford, you look very 
serious. If that dear girl had been here, whose loss I as- 
sure you has grieved me very much, and affected my son 
beyond any thing you can conceive, I say if she and her 
friend Miss Barnwell had been here, Mr. Law would not 
have come off so easily. But he and I have boxed one 
another so often, that we don't feel each other's blows. 

1 am truly sorry, Sir, answered I, that a person of your 
sense and education should avow your disbelief and dislike 
of Christianity. You say that it has been used as a for- 
tress for the protection of tyranny. I grant that it has been 
perverted by being made a state religion : but which of 
the mercies of God has not been abused : It is not in its 
own nature calculated to be an established religion ; for it 
never can become so, except it be first exceedingly cor- 
rupted. 

Pray, Sir, said Mr. Law, how do you prove that I 
Though I do not care to dispute with Mr. Clifford, because 



299 



I know he will have his own way, I cannot hear such an 
assertion from you, and be silent. Is not Christianity the 
established religion in every catholic country in Europe ? 
Why then is it not lit to be the established religion in pro- 
testant countries. 

It is unfit, Sir, replied I, for that purpose, in any coun- 
try ; since the church or kingdom of Christ is neither of 
this world, nor governed by worldly maxims. Christ is 
the only head and lawgiver of his own kingdom, and his 
subjects are all brethren. Neither wealth, learning, nor 
genius, can exalt any one of his subjects aboTe the rest. 
The bishops whom they choose from among themselves to 
preside over them, are neither directors of their faith nor of 
their practice : they can only inform them what Christ and 
his apostles have commanded, and enforce those commands 
by the penalties mentioned in Scripture, which do not ex- 
tend either to life or limb, to fine or imprisonment. The 
forms of proceeding in a bishop's court against a delinquent 
would be in vain sought for in the New Testament. I 
might make the same observation concerning the election 
of bishops by virtue of a conge d'elire, or royal mandate ; 
concerning the consecrating and enthroning of them when 
chosen ; and concerning their being lords of parliament, 
or indeed lords in any sense. They who have learned this 
kind of Christianity from the precepts of Jesus, or of his 
humble followers, must have read the New Testament to 
little purpose. Religion is now said to wear golden slip- 
pers ; but it is a very different religion from that of Jesus 
Christ, whose followers have by the noble and wise men 
of this world been always esteemed the offscouring of all 
things, or, as Mr. Law terms them, the scum of the earth. 
This is the hour and the power of darkness. Christians 
must wait a little while, and every thing will be in their 
favour ; their enemies will then be ashes under the soles 
of their feet. With regard to you, Mr. Barnwell, permit 
me to tell you, that in persecuting your daughter you are 
wounding yourself to death. She is a daughter of whom 
you are unworthy. While you are despising her, treating 



300 



her as an enemy and alien, and rendering her an orphan, 
she is praying for your happiness, and weeping over that 
distress, that misery and destruction, which she too well 
knows are coming upon you. 

Sir, replied Mr. Barnwell contemptuously, you are a 
young man. When ycu have lived as many years as your 
father or I, you will know better. You will by that time I 
doubt not have learned, that God and nature have made you 
the rightful guardian of your children, and that their con- 
duct ought to be under your direction, at least while they 
are under your care. We will soon settle this point, con- 
tinued he. Pray, Sir, answer me this plain question. Does 
not an apostle command children to obey their parents? 
But faith, faith, faith, among enthusiasts now-a-days, is every 
thing, and morality is nothing at ail. 

Well done, exclaimed Mr. Law, smiling ; I dare say you 
have given this young gentleman a knGt that he may cut, 
but that he will not be able to untie. 

Pray, Sir, said I, when will you acknowledge it to be un- 
tied ? ' 

When you have proved, Sir, said he, that children are 
not to be obedient to their parents. 

I suppose, said I, that you confine obedience to parents 
to their lawful corn man ds. 

Undoubtedly, answered Mr. Law. 

Suppose, Sir, said I, Mr Barnwell and his daughter had 
lived in the time of the apostles, and had heard Paul preach 
at Phiiippi when Lydia was converted. Suppose further 
the word of God had made the same impression upon Mis , 
Barnwell's mind, which it did upon the mind of that ex- 
cellent woman, would it have been lawful for her after this 
to obey her father by joining in the worship of Jupiter or 
Apollo ? 

- It would not, answered he ; but the case is not similar. 
Miss Barnwell was commanded to attend the worship of 
God in a Christian church. 

I will not take the advantage, Sir, replied I, of showing 
the unlawTulness of forcing the conscience in any. case 



301 



whatever. It is sufficient for me to deny that she ^vas 
commanded to attend the worship of God in a Christian 
church. If you cannot prove that she was so commanded, 
it will follow from your own concession that Mr. Barnwell 
commanded his daughter to do that which was unlawful. 
It will also follow that it was not her duty to obey him, for 
filial obedience is restricted in the New Testament to law- 
ful things. Children^ says the apostle, obey your parent* 
in the Lord : and our Lord predicted that parents and chil- 
dren would become the most bitter enemies to each other 
on account of the gospel. 

Am I put upon proving, said Mr. Law, that the church 
to which Miss Barnwell was commanded to go, is a Chris- 
tian church ? It would be a difficult thing to prove that the 
sun shines, to a man who shuts his eyes. I am willing to 
allow the church of Rome to be a true church, and I think 
myself entitled to equal candour from you. But I am 
doubtful, Sir, whether you are a catholic ; for you tahk very 
strangely for one of that communion. 

It is sufficient, Sir, answered I, to inform you, that I am 
a member of no national church, and that I consider the 
numerous corruptions which have been introduced into 
Christianity as one great cause of the infidelity of the 
great, both in catholic and protestant countries ; since, in 
opposing and deriding priestcraft, they unwisely imagine 
they are opposing and deriding Christianity. A Christian 
church, continued 1, is an assembly of faithful men, meet- 
ing together in one place to hear their pastor or bishop 
explain and enforce the writings of the apostles and pro- 
phets. This bishop is a person of their own choice, pos- 
sessing the qualifications which are enumerated in Paul's 
first epistle to Timothy. The things taught at trie univer- 
sities to youth designed for the ministry are no part of those 
qualifications : it is no marvel therefore that reading a mo- 
ral essay should by such teachers be mistaken for preach- 
ing the gospel. A composition that would have been 
heard with pleasure by a Roman audience in the time of 
paganism, must be essentially different from that divine 

2 C 



302 



H)orality which has its foundation in the love of God, mani- 
fested in the gift of his Son to die for sinners, and which is 
powerfully and properly enforced from that consideration. 
Mr, Barnwell's insinuation that the doctrine embraced by 
the despised servants of Jesus consists of nothing but faith, 
is a libel on Christianity. They who hold the doctrine of 
justification by faith alone, maintain with the apostles, that 
wherever the truth of the gospel is received, it will be 
productive of love to God, and of universal submission to 
his will ; and that where this is not in a considerable de* 
gree the case, there is no real Christianity. 

I tell you what, my friend, said Mr. Clifford, (looking at 
Mr. Law,) I would advise you to give it up. I don't mean 
the argument ; that you have lost ; but the profession of 
Christianity. Have not I always told you that you believe 
no more of it than I ? And has not my young friend de- 
monstrated it ? What a vile imposition has priestcraft been 
in every age of the world ! I don't mean in the least to re- 
flect upon my friend Law ; he does but as others do : but 
that consideration would not satisfy my conscience, though 
I am an infidel. 

Mr. Clifford, replied Mr. Law, I have long determined 
to. enter into no dispute with you, as I can neither impart 
any good to you 5 nor receive any good from you ; and Mr. 
William Neville I see has formed his opinion ; we must 
therefore agree to differ. If I am but as good as many gen- 
tlemen who hive been members of the church of England, 
I need not wish to be any better. 

For my paru said Mr. Barnwell, I would rather have 
been employed in shooting butterflies. Talking about re- 
ligion is to me the most unprofitable, insipid, unintelligi- 
ble thing h\ the world. Besides, if we talk for ever, can we 
be any thing more than honest ? I beg, young gentleman, 
.you will answer me that one question, by saying Yes or No, 

I reply then, Sir, said i, by answering, No. 

There then, cried he, you see what it all comes to when 
you can bring people to s t !\e point. 

Ah, my friend, said Mr. Clifford, be assured you are no 



303 



nearer than you were before. Mr. William Neville may 
tell you that you have not behaved very honestly to your 
daughter, nor done to her as you would be done by. I fire- 
tend to no religion, and you have no religion ; therefore 
being both upon a footing, I should imagine we should be 
induced to act alike. She is as fine a girl as any parent 
can boast of, and a sensible good girl. I have heard how 
you have used her : it came from one of your servants, and 
I blushed for you. Before I could have used my Charles 
so for one hour, I could have plucked my heart out with 
my own hands. You perceive how our friend Neville and 
his son compassionate her case, though they are not related 
to her. If she marry an honest man, (and if he be a man 
of their approving I have no doubt but he will be so,) I wilj 
add five hundred pounds to what Mr. Neville does for 
her, whether you give her any thing or not. 

Here, Madam, I rose hastily, and went out ; for I found 
myself so exceedingly moved, that like Joseph I was 
obliged to go and weep in secret. Those words occurred 
to my mind, And the earth helped the woman ; by which I 
think we are taught, that when the church is oppressed 
by wicked Christian's, or by the man of sin, God will raise 
it up friends from among men of the world, who make no 
profession of Christianity. 

I learned from my father that all that Mr. Clifford and 
himself could say respecting my dear Miranda, made no 
impression on her cruel parent. The sum of what he re- 
plied was, that he hated all pretenders to religion ; that 
she was welcome to come home, and behave as she used 
to do ; but that her refusing Mr. Clifford, on a religious aq* 
count, was what he never could forgive. 

As Mr. Charles Clifford did not return home while we 
were there, his father promised that he should call on us 
the next day. I expect him every minute. My father 
invited all the company to dine with us this day fortnight, 
which will be your niece's birthday. If any thing should 
occur worth relating, my good Mrs. Worthington will hear 
from mc. My dear girl, and all our family, know of my 



304 



writing, and unite in the most sincere respects. The first 
moment I have any leisure, I wr& do what you desire : it 
will recall to my remembrance some very bitter, and some 
very happy moments. 

I am, dear Madam, 

Yours very affectionately, 

WILLIAM NEVILLE. 



LETTER LVII. 

From Mr. Neville to Mrs. Worthington, 

DEAR MADAM, 

I OUGHT not any longer to omit informing Mrs. Wor- 
thington, under my own hand, how much I consider both 
my family and myself indebted to her. What a treasure 
have I lost — and lost through my own guilty ignorance ! I 
repeat it, through my guilty ignorance ; for having the ora- 
cles of truth in my hand, I ought to have consulted them, 
and to have yielded an implicit obedience to those infallible 
directors. I bless God, 1 now endeavour to do so with my 
whole heart, so far as I know that which is justly said to be 
deceitful above all things. What would I not be willing to 
do or to suffer, if I could but live the time over again in 
which I persecuted my dear child. Let superstitious bi- 
gots and persecutors take warning by me. Let them hear 
my unhappy tale, and tremble, lest like me they make bit- 
ter work for repentance when it shall be too late. Paul be- 
wailed all his lifetime his having persecuted the friends of 
the Redeemer : but he did not persecute a dutiful child. 
I can compare myself to none but Jephthah, whose super- 
stition occasioned the death of his beloved daughter. But 
alas ! he did not consider his child as God's enemy. She 
too was willing to fall a victim to her father's rash vow. 
But the mercy of God is equal to my crime. That mercy 
manifested in Christ Jesus has been my only refuge. 
Oceans of water would not have cleansed me ; nitre and 



305 



much soap would not have purified me. O that my re- 
pentance did but equal that of M. de Barreaux. He seems 
to have had the deepest sense of his vileness, and a glori- 
ous view of the mercy of God manifested in Jesus Chris^, 
This is my own case, I had fainted under the sense of 
my guilt, unless I had seen the goodness of the Lord in 
the land of the living. Henceforth may I determine to 
know nothing, save Jesus Christ and him crucified. 

My dear friend, cannot you make it convenient to pay 
us a visit ? If you will make such an addition to the fa- 
vours I and mine have already received, either my daugh- 
ter or your niece shall go to London and accompany you 
down. I do not mention the time of your stay, since, if 
we could render it agreeable to yourself, I should wish it 
to be as long as you have any thing to do with time, being 
sensible that Mrs. Worthington will be a blessing to any 
family wherein she resides. 

I account it no small mercy that my son has been direct- 
ed by Providence to the choice of a woman for a wife who 
I believe sincerely loves him, aod, which is of greater im- 
portance, who loves God. Your niece meets with every 
kind of respect in my family. I love her for her own, as 
well as for my son's sake ; and my daughter esteems her as 
much as if she v/ere her sister. I used formerly to think she 
had too much vivacity. But the brutal treatment she has re- 
ceived from her parent has pruned every exuberance of 
that kind ; or it is possible the just sense she now enter- 
tains of eternal things has given her that becoming gravi- 
ty, which is an ornament to persons of every age, and in 
every station. 

When I was in the church of Rome, I misunderstood 
the nature and design of Christianity. I now see that the 
wound made by sin is an alienation of mind from God, or 
in other words a hatred of him. In vain might I have 
fasted till I had been a skeleton, and in vain have given 
all my goods to feed the poor; for mere self-love was 
the principal motive that influenced my actions : at best, 
what good I did proceeded from tender feelings, and 

2 C 2 



306 



natural sympathy. I did not perceive that the death of 
Christ was intended to show us the infinite evil of sin, the 
infinite love of God to a perishing world, and the impossi- 
bility of purchasing or meriting the divine favour, and by 
all these considerations to reconcile us to God. 1 have 
been obliged to unlearn almost every thing which I had 
learned while I was in that communion. 

In my dear Eusebia's closet I met with archbishop 
Leighton's works, which I found by the correspondence 
betw r een her and her friends were your valuable gift. I 
have read the four volumes with unspeakable pleasure and 
profit. The writings of that great man breathe the same 
spirit with the gospels and epistles, and also with the re- 
ligion of Abraham and the patriarchs, and of David and 
the prophets How different is that spirit from the hea- 
then divinity which we find in the Greek and Roman wri- 
ters. Almost every page carries in it a demonstration of 
its own truth, and of the truth of that divine revelation 
which dwelt in him in all wisdom and spiritual under- 
standing. I feel the truth of what he says. I have that in 
myself which answers to it as face answers to face in a 
mirror. In vain would it be to try for days and months 
and years to make a man born blind comprehend the na- 
ture of light and colours ; but if his eyes be opened, he 
will immediately understand it. Much has been said con- 
cerning the time when the epistles and gospels were writ- 
ten, both by those who have maintained, and by those 
who have denied the authenticity of those waitings; 
and many are the arguments which have been offered 
to prove their divine origin. But if I may judge of 
others by myself, ail these things are like music to 
the deaf, or paintings to the blind, if the same Spirit be 
not received who dictated them. I have been a blind man, 
having eyes, and a deaf man, having ears. 1 say not this 
to excuse myself: my blindness was a moral, a guilty, and 
not an innocent blindness. 

The letters which passed between you, Madam, your 
niece 3 and my daughter, were blessed to me by the Spirit 



307 



of God. They convinced me first of all, that till that time 
my hopes of eternal life had been founded upon my own 
excellence, although I deserved everkisling destruction. 
At the same time I saw a door opened into the holiest of 
all by the blood of Jesus, capacious enough to admit the 
chief of sinners. The next thing- of which I was convin- 
ced was, that Chiist's kingdom is not of this world. All 
my popery was hereby slain. I read that divine prophecy, 
the revelation of John* with new eyes. I could not doubt 
who was denoted by the woman riding upon a scarlet- 
coloured beast, and drunken with the blood of the saints ; 
nor who are the daughters of this mother of harlots. 
What church, said I, is that which has committed forni- 
cation with the kings of the earth ? Who are so likely to 
strip her of her possessions as those who first endowed her 
with them ? And who will bewail her full, except those 
spiritual merchants who are represented as trading in the 
souls of men ? I clearly discerned that the leading subject 
of that book is the rise and fall of an antichristian society, 
which should be permitted for a limited time to persecute 
the Lithful followers of Jesus. These are represented as 
a woman preserved by the power of God in the wilder- 
ness from the devil, who pursues her with all the malice 
and venom of a dragon, and endeavours to destroy her and 
her seed by a flood of persecutions. 

My son wishes to be made happy in his dear Miranda. 
To this I have no other objection than the recent death of 
a sister for whom he had the most tender affection, and 
whom in disposition, as well as in person, he very much 
resembles. She had a gentle behaviour, a winning soft- 
ness, a gravity w ithout moroseness, and a modesty without 
excessive timidity. How should I enlarge, if I were to 
describe the beauues of her person and of her mind ! but 
I must forbear ; the remembrance is too distressing. I 
must endeavour to console myself with the consideration, 
that she has passed the swellings of Jordan, and has ming- 
led with kindred spirits to be for ever with the Lord. 

God only knows how long I may continue in this vale of 
tears. I am exceedingly oppressed with lowness of spir- 



3i/S 

fls ; I sigh frequently, sleep little, feel myself sinking, 
notwithstanding- I have a good appetite, and am terrified 
as it were by my own shadow. A sudden rapping at the 
door, the receipt of a letter, or almost any trifling thing, 
makes me tremble and feel unhappy. The mercy of God 
manifested in Christ, and his promises to guilty sinners 
who lie under the shadow of his wings, are almost my only 
consolation : and that is sometimes impeded by my dread- 
ing, lest after all I should be like those hearers who receiv- 
ed the seed into stony places or among thorns. 

You will be glad to hear, Madam, that Signior Albino, 
whom you have often seen at Mr. Barnwell's, is the re- 
verse of what he was. He is I trust a sincere Christian. 
What a change in my family ! The death of my daughter 
has through the divine mercy been a blessing to us all, as 
I doubt not it has been to herself also. 

Mr. Charles Clifford has just been here. What a dif- 
ference has divine grace made between him and his father i 
He is in mourning for my child, for whom he had the 
most sincere affection. He gave me an account of all the 
places at which he had inquired after her. He heard no- 
thing of her. I feel for him almost the affection of a pa- 
rent, and have entreated him to let us have as much of 
his company as he can. His father, with Mr. and Mrs* 
Barnwell, and Mr. and Mrs Law, are to dine with me this 
day fortnight, and he promises to accompany them. It 
will be your niece's birthday : I do not know what may 
then take place. I am, with the sincerest esteem, 
Dear Madam, your friend, and 
Most obedient servant, 

JAMES NEVILLE. 

LETTER LVIII. 

From Mrs. Worthington to Mr, Neville. 

DEAR SIR, 

I RECEIVED your obliging letter, and rejoice with you 

that in great mercy you are brought into the glorious li- 
berty of the sons of God, 



309 



I pray for you that you may not be swallowed up with over- 
much sorrow. Your daughter had very few equals in any 
respect : it is no wonder therefore, you regret the loss of 
her. But remember that Christianity was her chief excel- 
lence. It was that which ennobled her nature, and raised 
it to immortality. The dissolution, therefore, of her mor- 
tal frame, has ushered her into the presence of her Lord, 
where she is now like him, and behoidshim without a cloud 
between. 

You undoubtedly were her persecutor, though you meant 
not so to be. And where can an unregenerate person be 
found that is a friend to the children of God as such ? Your 
being an enemy therefore to your own dutiful child, did 
not prove you to be a greater sinner than unregenerate men 
in common are. A gracious God has made you a monu- 
ment of his mercy, in order that you may be sensible of 
his goodness both in time and eternity. And do you think 
she does not view herself as a monument of mercy like- 
wise ? Yes, Sir, all the redeemed so consider themselves 
on one account or another. 

That you have so just a view of the Revelation much 
pleases me. The accomplishment of the prophecies in 
the rise of antichrist, who like Babylon of old has been a 
thorn in the sides of the people of God, has abundantly 
proved the truth of Christianity ; and his fall, which has 
already commenced, is a proof of the same truth, which 
proof, like Ezekiei's river, is growing broader and deeper 
every day. 

I am sorry to hear that you are so ill. The disorder 
which you have described is a frequent appendant to rich- 
es, and makes the lord of ten thousand acres more mise- 
rable than the poorest of his vassals. Nervous complaints 
are not generally the portion of the poor. If the rich would 
be free from this dreadful malady, they must become poor, 
cither in reality or artificially. The person whose labour 
or exercise does not bear a pretty exact proportion to his 
food, will be a valetudinarian in some form or other : and 
although a good constitution may put off the evil day, yet it 



310 



must come ; and nothing hastens its approach so much as 
trouble. Trouble affects the nerves of the stomach, and 
brings on indigestion, accompanied with sinking, lowness 
of spirits, and mental horrors more dreadful than all the 
rest. To many persons thus afflicted it would be a mercy 
to be stripped of their substance, in order that that mode- 
ration and labour might ensue which their present opu- 
lence prevents. The great art of preserving health con- 
sists in proportioning the food to the power of digestion. 
If this be not attended to, the stone, the dropsy, the jaun- 
dice, or a complication of disorders will succeed ; and ve- 
ry frequently a train of nervous symptoms, which have 
long been the opprobrium of medicine. 

One considerable bar in the way of the cure of persons 
afflicted with nervous diseases is, that in general they think 
themselves the most abstemious people living. Now with 
what decency can they be exhorted to abridge themselves 
ef half their habitual food, who think they' eat too little al- 
ready ? 

Cornaro, the noble Venetian, the account of whom you 
possibly may not have seen, had, by his excesses, brought 
himself to the borders of the grave before he was forty 
years of age. He then formed a resolution to be tempe- 
rate. He began with confining himself to twelve ounces 
of solid food, and a pint of wine, in twenty-four hours. 
Thus he continued to live for a great number of years : 
but he was obliged, many years before his death, gradually 
to lessen the quantity, until he found the yolk of an egg 
"sufficient for a day. During all this time he enjoyed per- 
fect health, together with a fine flow of spirits, which con- 
tinued to the last hour, and almost to the last minute of 
his life. At upwards of a hundred he laid his head back 
in his chair, and expired without a groan, and apparently 
without pain. 

After he had entered upon this temperate course, an 
estate was unjustly wrested from him and his relations. 
This broke the heart of some of them, while he was very 
little affected by it. 



311 



Many of the servants of God who have not feared to be 
dead, have dreaded dying*, and that not without reason, 
since the generality of mankind die a violent death. A 
reasonable expectation of leaving this world by slow de- 
grees, without pain or sickness, and with a serene resig- 
nation to the divine will, is worth all that self-denial which 
temperance demands. 

There art thousands of persons who are considered by 
thems rives and others as very temperate, who yet eat 
more than they can digest. Let me therefore entreat you, 
Sir, to diminish the quantity of your food a little, and, if 
you find yourself better, then to diminish it a little more, 
till you find by experience that you eat no more than nature 
requires. 

Too great variety of food at one meal is in this respect 
very injurious. After a person has eaten to loathing, a 
new dish will procure him a fresh appetite, and every ad- 
ditional dish will be an additional incentive to gluttony. 

Different constitutions require different kinds of food. 
You must find out by experience what best agrees with 
your own. I cannot but think that too great a proportion 
of animal food is eaten in this kingdom ; and also that 
there are many persons who ought not to eat any solid ani- 
mal food, and who, if they were to live entirely on soups 
and a vegetable diet, would gain that health \\ hich they in 
vain seek for from medicine. 

Permit me to add a word or two more. — Use a great deal 
of exercise in the open air. Let your suppers be very 
early, and very light. After evening family worship let 
Miss Neville or my niece play a pscdm tune for a quarter 
of an hour on your organ, and let the rest of the family 
accompany it with their voices, singing a psalm or hymn, 
from Dr. Watt's Psalms and Hymns, or from Dr. Pip- 
pon's Selection, each person having a book. And to con- 
clude, retire to rest early* and rise early. 

I cannot but think that a compliance with these direc- 
tions, accompanied with that serenity of mind w hich flows 
from a sense of the pardon of sin, from communion with 



312 



God, and from a good conscience, would greatly alleviate, 
if not entirely remove your disorder. 

I rejoice to hear of the change in Signior Albino. How 
rough and unpolished by nature are the stones which God 
uses in building his spiritual temple. Bears and lions 
change their natures, agreeably to the beautiful description 
by Isaiah, and become proper companions for the labori- 
ous ox and the harmless sheep. 

I thank you, Sir, for your kind invitation to Thorton Ab- 
bey, I hope some time to have the pleasure of seeing a 
family in whose happiness I am so much interested, but 
cannot make it convenient to myself at present. 

I also thank you and your family for the very great kind- 
ness shown to my niece. You think she had formerly too 
much vivacity. You kindly give it the best name it would 
bear : you might more properly have called it pertness. 
Poor girl ! her mother died when she was young; and it is not 
every father that knows how to educate his children as he 
ought. Justice obliges me to say in her behalf, that she 
had a pliant temper, and might have been bent to almost 
any thing. But where parents cherish their children's de- 
fects, and mistake pertness for wit, which was Mr. Barn- 
well's case, it is no wonder that children behave improper- 
ly. I hope a sense of redeeming love has seasoned her 
mind with becoming gravity, and has made her a posses- 
sor of that cheerfulness and serenity which is not allied to 
noisy mirth, and of that wisdom which does not consist in 
pert loquacity, and in being ever on the watch to say smart 
things, but in constantly endeavouring to glorify God, and 
to benefit ourselves and others, by our words and actions. 
Whenever I perceived her culpable, I reproved her free- 
ly, and she readily acknowledged her fault. 

Whatever may take place at the time mentioned in the 
close of your letter, I earnestly pray that it may be attend- 
ed with the divine blessing. 

I am, dear Sir, 

Yours very respectfully, 

MARY WORTHINGTON. 



313 



LETTER LIX. 

From Mrs. Worthington to Miss Barnwell. 

MY DEAR NIECE, 

In a letter I have received from Mr. Neville, he has hin- 
ted that something may possibly take place on your birth- 
day : I think he means your intended marriage. He has 
also invited me to Thornton Abbey. I have promised, 
with the divine permission, at some convenient opportuni- 
ty to accept the invitation ; but I have added that I cannot 
do so at present. If my conjecture is well founded, and 
you and my other friends choose to come to town, and can 
.be contented with my accommodations, I need not tell you 
how happy I shall be in the company of those I so highly 
esteem. 

It becomes you, my dear niece, to admire and adore the 
providence of God that has watched over you for good I 
You have reason to adopt the words of the psalmist, When 
my father and my mother forsake me y then the Lord ivill 
take me uji. As you have received much mercy, it may 
be justly expected that you should love much; that God 
should be in all your thoughts ; and that you should endea- 
vour to glorify him in every thought, word, and action. 
Very great esteem and gratitude will also be due to him, 
who will have taken you from the low and deserted state 
wherein he found you, Common affection and esteem 
will not be accounted sufficient, either by God or man, as a 
return for great and uncommon favours. It will become you 
also to reflect, that the higher you are exalted above what 
you had reason to expect, so much the greater hazard you 
will run of losing the affection of him who has thus fa- 
voured you. I doubt not but you now make it your study 
to give Mr. Neville not the shadow of a reason to compl in 
of you. In so doing you act rightly ; but marriage, instead 
of lessening the necessity of this prudent caution, will in- 
crease it 3 since time considerably cools that ardent affec- 

? D 



314 



don which makes lovers blind to each other's imperfec- 
tions. If the wife be chaste, humble, submissive, patient, 
industrious, frugal, and kind and obliging to her husband's 
relatives and friends, as well as to himself, although ardent 
affection may decrease, esteem will be augmented, which 
is a passion far more durable than what is termed love ; 
since if the latter be not supported by qualities intrinsically 
valuable, it will, like a fiery meteor, produce a blaze, and 
then be extinguished for ever. 

Married persons should endeavour to practise whatso- 
ever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatso- 
ever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever 
things are lovely, and whatsoever things are of good re* 
port ; the best preparative and security for which are the 
love of God shed abroad in the heart, and an habitual desire 
to please him. Need we wonder that persons destitute of 
the love and fear of God, and educated in a course of luxu- 
ry, idleness, and dissipation, and in a continual round of 
sensual gratifications, should after marriage cool in their af- 
fection, and first slight and afterwards hate each other? If 
they possess a degreee of prudence sufficient to prevent 
elopement, adultery, and divorce, yet how many instances 
are there where they are continually wrangling, striving 
for mastery, and crossing and contradicting each other. 
Such wretched beings resemble infernal spirits, whose 
temper and disposition are the reverse of that love, joy, and 
peace, which constitute the happiness of the blessed. Even 
provided the husband or the wife have so much good sense 
as to give up every thing, and submit to every thing, rather 
than live in continual warfare, this is a state neither to be 
envied nor desired. But I believe there are few unhappy 
marriages in which the parties stop at this miserable me- 
diocrity. The husband frequently, soon after marriage, 
turns his thoughts upon forbidden objects, spends his time 
and his substance at a tavern or a brothel, and finding no 
comfort at home, where indeed he has no just right to ex- 
pect any, becomes a furious tyrant, and treats her whom 
he took to love, to defend, and to protect, with brutal fero* 



315 



city, till disease* beggary, and death, end the dreadful scene. 
Frequently aiso the wife, determined to have her will in 
every thing? begins from the day of marriage tc put her de- 
sign in execution, by suffering no contradiction, and by- 
giving up no point whatever, lest having yielded in one in- 
stance she should be obliged to yield in another : and if 
she be determined to persevere, she will inevitably accom- 
plish her purpose. If the husband be disposed to sacrifice 
almost every thing for peace, it only serves to inflame her 
passion for mastery. The weapons used in this domestic 
warfare are numerous and powerful. If clamour will suc- 
ceed, seldom any thing else is thought of. But as that will 
not always prove successful, intreaties, coaxing, continual 
teazing, tears, fits, and illness, are so many different modes 
of attack, perseveringly carried on until the husband sur- 
renders. 

If you should show Mr. Neville this picture of matrimo- 
ny, the original of which I fear is frequently to be seen, he 
will perhaps say with the disciples, If the case of the man 
be so with hi* wife, it is not good to marry. To this how- 
ever I would reply, that in numerous instances marriage is 
the most happy state in the world, and for both parties ve- 
ry far excels a single state. I have known many cases, in 
which there has been little or no sense of religion, where 
nevertheless good sense and good temper have so far sup- 
plied the place of better principles, as to make the parties 
tolerably happy. And I have also known many married 
persons, who, possessing the best principles, yet wanting 
good sense and a good natural temper, have not been hap- 
py. Grace, as has frequently been observed, is sometimes 
grafted upon a crab-stock. Where that is the case, with- 
out good sense and great self-denial, a person's own happi- 
ness, and the happiness of his connexions, prill be consider- 
ably diminished. Bat instances are not wanting where 
good sense and good temper in both parties are connected 
with an experimental knowledge of salvation by Jesus 
Christ. The conjugal union of such persons, endowed 
with a great portion of the Spirit of God, is the highest 



316 



state of felicity of which mortality is capable. It bears a 
resemblance to the happiness of the blessed. And indeed 
the love of Christ and his church is represented by a hap- 
py marriage, in the Canticles, and also in the xivth psalm, 
which is a beautiful ode upon the same subject, and from 
which Solomon possibly borrowed the idea of that fine alle- 
gorical poem. Such a union of hearts is strengthened by 
the consideration, that their interests are inseparable, and 
that nothing is undertaken or done by either but with a 
view to their mutual advantage. They behold themselves 
living as it were again in their children, and the love which 
each manifests to their offspring is another pleasing bond 
by which they are united, They love too as children of 
the same heavenly Father, destined to spend a happy eter- 
nity in his presence. By worshipping God together, and 
offering up prayer daily with and for each other, their re- 
ciprocal affection is invigorated. All these things united, 
form a friendship of the purest kind, which is strengthened 
rather than weakened by age and infirmities ; for they re- 
member with pleasure and gratitude their former mutual 
endearments, kindnesses, and good offices. 

As I do not expect nor desire you to keep this from the 
sight of Mr. William Neville, I here acknowledge the re- 
ceipt of his kind letter. In Mr. Clifford we see the true- 
representation of a man, who has so long cast off the fear 
of God, that his accusing conscience, having received ma- 
ny rebuffs, first loses its feeling, and then its voice. Yet 
such characters are less injurious to society, in many re- 
spects, than furious bigots, who have no other reason for 
adhering to their sect or party than because they were born 
in it. I will pursue this subject no further, since I perceive 
it leads me to the consideration of your father's unkindness. 
You cannot indeed be insensible of it, but I would not wil- 
lingly contribute towards the alienation of your affections 
from him. It also becomes you to consider, that unless 
divine mercy had prevented it, if not a similar, yet perhaps 
an equally culpable part would now have been acting by 
you. 



317 



I was much affected with the generous proposal of Mr. 
Clifford, if you should marry with Mr. Neville's approba- 
tion. I think he has a right to an invitation to your wed- 
ding. Generous actions always meet with their reward 
from him who is himself the most beneficent giver ; and 
although they may proceed from no better motives than 
vanity or self-love, yet I believe God never fails to reward 
the most trivial favour done to his people. Undoubtedly, 
if the favour is done because they belong to Jesus, it is of 
much greater value, and proves the person who does it to 
be a Christian. 

I pray continually that you may fill up the station before 
you in an honourable manner, and that your conduct through 
life may promote the happiness of your husband, your fa- 
mily, and yourself. I entreat you both to accept my bless- 
ing. It is all I have to bestow at present. When I die, 
the little I possess will be yours. 

I present my kind respects to all the friends of the Re- 
deemer at Thornton Abbey. Believe me to be, 
My dear niece, 

Your affectionate aunt, 

MARY WORTHINGTON. 



LETTER LX. 

From Mr. William Neville to Mrs. Worihington. 

DEAR MADAM, 

Your niece has shown me your kind letter, wherein 
you have displayed the miseries of unhappy marriages, and 
the blessings of happy ones. I hope we shall endeavour, 
with the divine assistance, to escape the rocks and quick- 
sands you have pointed out; and we entreat you to conti- 
nue your prayers for that purpose. 

Agreeably, Madam, to your request I will relate the me- 
thod which my God and father took to discover to me the 
errors of the church of Rome. I might properly begin 

2 D 2 



SIS 

as Paul did, and say, that after the straightest sect of our 
religion I lived a Pharisee I and my sisters were educat- 
ed at home, aqd were under the care of Signior Albino, in 
whose commendation truth obliges me to declare, that a 
more diligent, friendly, and faithful man could scarcely any 
■where be found. We loved him as a parent, and met with 
a return of affection. It was his constant object to fortify 
our minds against heresy, with which name he stigmatized 
the opinions of all who, according to him, had rent the 
seamless coat of Christ by forsaking the communion of the 
Church of Rome. The arguments he used w e had no doubt 
were unanswerable, and i am convinced he thought the 
same. The prayers w hich e gave me I repeated pretty 
regularly : I cannot say devoutly, for I thought that when 
I had Si-id them all was well, and my sins w ould be forgiven. 
Siguier Albino had assured me that this would infallibly 
be the case, and I believed him, who 1 thought knew bet- 
ter than I. 

When I was about seventeen years of age, being a lover 
of books, and taking delight in ruxnaging among a great 
number of old volumes which were piieu up in one of the 
garrets, I found among them Fox's .dots and Monument 
and my curiosity piompted me to see what the heretics had 
to say for themselves After reading a considerable part 
of the third volume, my belief in the infallibility of the 
church of Rome, and in its being the only true church, 
was shaken, though not destroyed. 1 wept at the relation 
of the sufferings of those valiant defenders of the truth 
who were burned at Smithneld, Oxford, and other places. 
I believed that they were good men, and that they were 
dealt very hardly with. 1 w as sorry, if they were wrong, 
that they were so cruelly treated ; for, said I to myself, 
this severity at best could only have made them hypo- 
crites, by causing them to profess w hat they did not be- 
lieve. 

I was frequently wanted either by my father or Signior 
Albino, and when I was inquired for, the servants often 
■ased to say. Most probably he is in the garret. At one of 




those times, my Father being determined to see what I wa- 
doing, came to me, and found me reading Fox's Acts and 
Monuments, William, cried he sternly, that is an hereti- 
cal book, and you are not arrived at a sufficient age for de- 
tecting the sophistry of those artful people. I desire you 
to read it no more. I promised that I would not ; and in- 
deed I could not, for it was conveyed away, and, as I find 
by one of my dear sister's letters, given to Mrs. Privet, at 
whose house she providentially came to the sight of it. The 
effect which it had upon me I kept a profound secret. In- 
deed I was stiii persuaded that, on the whole, our religion 
was the best and safest ; for I had found no protestant half 
so strict as my father and Signior Albino, or whom I thought 
half so good. Perhaps, so far as respects protestants in 
general, I was not much out in my judgment. 

After I had lost my old companion, I met with another 
book which caught my attention. This was the History of the 
Pu<-i f a?is. I had always been taught to consider the church 
of England as having departed the least of all the Reform- 
ed churches from the church of Rome, which I believe is 
the case. The sectaries I had considered in the same light 
as Mr. Law considers poor people, namely, as the scum of 
the earth ; and I determined to read this book, in order 
that I might be confirmed in my prejudice against them, 
The reading of it, however, had a different effect from 
what I have expected. It taught me not to take up an 
opinion of persons and things upon trust. It likewise 
shook my seif-righteousness and vain confidence ; for when 
I compared my formality with their piety, I perceived the 
difference to be inexpressibly in their favour. This caused 
me for the future to be more watchful of my words and ac- 
tions, and more solemn in my prayers. But alas 1 I found 
myself unable to be so spiritual and devout as I saw r those 
persons to have been whom I had so much despised; and 
the more I watched over my thoughts, words, and actions, 
the worse I appeared to myself to be. My trouble of mind 
was very great. 1 knewnot what course to take. I durst 
on no account mention any thing to my father, or Signior 



320 



Albino, or even to my sister, lest I should be accused of 
heresy. Nothing, however, was further from my thoughts 
than leaving the church of Rome ; on the contrary, I was 
forming many schemes how to become more holy, and 
more devoted to God, in that communion. I had thoughts 
of becoming a monk ; nay, I even wished to renounce the 
world, and become a hermit ; and with these sentiments I 
was sent nearly three years ago to the English college at St. 
Omer's. My father thought this a wise precaution for pre- 
serving me from heresy and heretics. But in a Catholic 
country I found religion at a low ebb indeed. The poor, I 
perceived, were either careless or grossly superstitious : 
and the rich in general were deists or atheists, and talked 
and lived as if religion was only designed for the vulgar. I 
was shocked to see plays acted on the Sunday, and the time 
of the people occupied by other diversions on that sacred 
day. I had seen nothing of this kind at home : popery 
therefore appeared to me in a more suspicious light abroad 
than it had done in my own country. I associated with very 
few persons ; for I soon discovered that great professions 
©f friendship meant nothing at all, and repeatedly wrote to 
my father that I was weary of the haunts of men. All this 
time I knew nothing of salvation by Jesus Christ. I had 
indeed many just and dreadful apprehensions that things 
were not right with me respecting my eternal concerns ; 
but I felt my misery, without knowing the remedy. 

My leisure hours I employed in botany, a study of which 
I am very fond. Being a good walker, I frequently went 
several miles round the country. At one of these times, 
being near Mount Casse! upon a botanizing excursion, I 
fell into the company of a gentleman who spoke English 
nearly as well as myself. He resided in that town, and after 
some conversation about England and America, and upon 
several other subjects, invited me to drink tea at his house, 
which invitation I accepted. This event I esteem the hap- 
piest in my life. 

M de Bethune, (for that was his name,) a descendant of 
the prime minister of Henry IV, had resided more than 



321 



I 



twenty years in America. Having there obtained a com- 
petency by his industry, he determined to return with his 
family to France. Not, said he, that I in the least disliked 
my situation, the country, or the climate, except that the 
weather was sometimes extremely cold, and at other times 
too hot ; but I had an ardent desire once more to behold 
the place where I first drew 7 my breath, and to converse 
with my old friends and acquaintance. Alas ! in twenty 
years the greatest part of them had passed out of time in- 
to eternity ; and I had not been here more than a week, 
and taken a view of the haunts of my childhood, the house 
where I was brought up, and some other things, before I 
felt an anxiety to return : and not more than half a year 
elapsed before I actually formed the resolution of doing 
so. My son, who is in his twenty-fifth year, came over 
with his wife, whom he had just married, not doubting but 
a person with money might find a profitable employment 
any where. In this however we were mistaken : nothing 
presented itself which he approved, although we w r ent to 
Paris, Lyons, Marseilles, and Bcurdeaux. In consequence 
of this disappointment he and his wife set sail for New- 
York about a month since. He intends to travel through 
the States till he meets with a purchase to his mind, which 
being done, I and his mother, and my two daughters that 
you now see, intend to go to him. We did not accompany 
him, because a considerable part of our property is in 
France, which it is necessary for us to stay and collect to- 
gether. 

I have related these few particulars concerning a person 
to whom I am indebted, under God, for much more than 
my natural life ; that knowledge with which eternal life is 
connected being far more valuable than mere existence- 
He is now returned to America. The day before my 
friends arrived at St. Omer's I had bidden farewell to him 
and his family. The thoughts of seeing each other no 
more in this world, were the occasion of much sorrow on 
both sides. He and his wife considered me almost as an* 
ether son, and the children loved me like a brother. 



Young gentleman, said he, at our first interview, you 
have told me that you are sent to St. Omer's to finish your 
-education ; knowledge is undoubtedly excellent ; but i wish 
to learn from your own mouth whether you possess that 
knowledge which is the most important. I was so unused 
to this kind of discourse, that I knew not how to reply. I 
therefore requested him to speuk more intelligibly. My 
friend, answered he, you will one day die, and after death 
you will be either happy or miserable. What I ask you 
is, whether you have a good hope through grace that you 
will be eternally happy. I replied, that I took it very kind- 
ly that M. de Bethune saould thus interest himself re- 
specting me ; and that I had had many thoughts on the 
subject, but w T as at present unprepared to answer such an 
important question. I added, that I should esteem it a 
very great favour if he would instruct me. My friend, 
said he, the Christian only has a well-founded hope of eter- 
nal life : and every Christian has that hope, either in a 
greater or smaller degree. Pray, sir, said I, are you a ca- 
tholic or a protestant ? A protestant, sir, replied he ; but I 
do not consider this as any proof of my being a Christian, 
or a true worshipper of God ; there are many wicked pro- 
testants ; you have undoubtedly seen such in your own 
country. To be a Christian is to be like Christ, and to be 
godly is to be like God. Read with care our Lord's con- 
versation with Nicodemus. You will there learn, that ex- 
cept a man be born again, he not only cannot enter into the 
kingdom of God, but cannot see it. The world, said the 
apostle John, knoweth us not, because it knew him not. If 
the Jews had known the hidden wisdom of God, they 
would not have crucified the Lord of glory : but, their 
minds being perverted by sin, they turned his glory into 
shame, and cast out his name as evil, in like manner as 
they afterwards did the names of his followers. 

This brought to my mind all that I had read of the ser- 
vants of God who were burned in the time of queen Mary. 
The catholics who burned them, and the Jews who cruci- 
fied Christ, appeared to me to be persons of similar cha- 
racters. 



323 

I then asked M. de Bethune, whether there had not 
been a visible church of Christ in all ages. Not visible, 
answered he* to the world. The world saw the men, but 
did not know the dignity of their character. And I must 
continue to maintain, that except a man be born again, he 
is an utter stranger to the church of Christ in general, and 
to every member of it in particular Our Lord promised that 
the gates of hell should not prevail against his church ; but 
I think, Sir, you find, both in England and France, that the 
gates of hell do prevail against the majority of men called 
Christians, whatever be their denominations. The church 
of Christ, therefore* if he has a church upon earth, must be 
sought for, like any thing else that is hidden, or out of sight, 
until it be found. 

These sentiments were new to me. If my hope of 
eternal life was weak before, it now entirely vanished. I 
had been educated in a belief that the church of Rome 
was the only true church of Christ, and that, all the pro-t 
mises of God being made to that church, I was safe in its 
bosom. The church of England, I knew, acknowledged 
the church of Rome to be a true church ; and I thought 
that she could not separate herself from a true church 
without committing schism, and that therefore all her 
members were in a state of condemnation. Upon reading, 
however, Fox's Acts and Monuments, I admired the dis- 
position of the martyrs ; and when I read the Lives of the 
Puritans, I perceived in them a spirit which I was desi- 
rous of possessing. I sometimes thought that I could 
gladly have changed situation with them. These things 
occurred to my remembrance when I was conversing with 
M. de Bethune. 

I asked him where I must look for the church he had 
been speaking of. If, Sir, answered he, you have eyes 
you need not ask this question ; and if you are blind, it is 
in vain to ask it. Still keep in mind the words of the Re- 
deemer, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the 
kingdom of God ; and again, Excefit a man be born of water 
mid of the Spirit ^ he cannot enter into the kingdom of God, 



324 



These words were arrows that pierced deeply into my 
soul. My grief, in spite of my endeavours to suppress it, 
vented itself in a flood of tears. At length I said, Pray, 
my dear Sir, what would you have me do ? I can only, re- 
plied he, give the same answer which Paul gave to the 
Philippian jailor, Believe on the Lord Jesus Christy and 
thou shalt be saved. Be so kind, Sir, said I, as to inform 
me what your reason is for supposing me to he an unbe- 
liever. They who are born again, answered he, not only 
see the kingdom of God, but also, in general, discern who 
are not the subject's of that kingdom. I saw in you, when 
we first met, much that I approved, but lamented that I 
did not also see the Christian. I perceived by your an- 
swers to several of my questions, that your hope of eter- 
nal life was built upon your own righteousness. Man- 
kind may be classed under two grand divisions, the regen- 
erate and the unregenerate. The latter of these may be 
subdivided into the publicans, or the profane ; and the 
Pharisees, or the self-dependent. The former, or those 
who are born of God, are composed of babes, young men, 
and fathers in Christ. The difference between these dif- 
ferent classes of the regenerate consists not in the found- 
ation of their hope of eternal life, for that is the same in 
all, but in their different degrees of knowledge. Will it 
be an improper question, Sir, said I, if I ask upon what 
your hope of eternal life is founded ? By no means, replied 
he. My hope is the same as Peter's when he said, We 
believe that through the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ we 
shall be saved. The soul of the Messiah was made an 
offering for sin. A Christian is distinguished from all 
other men by his embracing this truth, which is the great 
subject of divine revelation. Every man in a state of un- 
regeneracy substitutes something in its room, as T per- 
ceive you have done. It signifies not what this something 
is, whether prayers or alms, vows of poverty, or vov.s of 
celibacy, fasting, or the mortifjing of the body in any 
other manner, none of these thing being of divine appoint- 
ment. No name under heaven is given by which salva* 



325 



tion can be obtained but the name of Jesus, nor any works 
beside his Works, nor any sufferings beside his sufferings* 
This is the Christianity of the Bible, and it is writter as 
with a sunbeam. But the god of this world hath blinded 
the minds of them who believe not, lest the light of the 
glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should 
shine unto them. The same blindness of heart which 
hinders the world from seeing the church of Christ, pre- 
vents their seeing the gospel of Christ. Books written 
in defence of Christianity may have their use with he 
divine blessing ; but Christianity cannot be taught like 
geography or astronomy. He who commanded the light 
to shine out of darkness, must shine in our hearts, to give 
the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face 
of Jesus Christ. 

These truths entered into my soul : I knew and felt 
their force. I acknowledged this to my friend. But alas, 
Sir, said I, I am a guilty sinner. It is true, replied he ; 
for under the Christian name, you have been rejecting the 
Redeemer as the only Saviour of sinners. When you sub- 
stituted other things in the room of that one oblation, you 
thought that you did right. Saul also thought the same, 
when he cud many things contrary to the name of Jesus 
of Nazareth, and when he dragged men and women to 
prison. Christians have been thus persecuted both by 
catholics and protestants ; for every man is by nature an 
enemy to the Christ of the Scriptures. If he call him- 
self a Christian, he has substituted a false Christ in the 
room of the true, and his religion is the reverse of 
Christianity. 

I ingenuously told M. de Bethune, that it was impossi- 
ble for me to be more convinced than I was of the truth of 
what he had said. I desired him to pray for me. O my 
friend, said he, most gladly ; I trust I shall ever pray for 
you. We are going to worship God in my family : will 
you join with us? To this I assented. Bibles being brought, 
his eldest daughter, who was about thirteen, read the 
twenty-second chapter of Genesis, which contains an ac» 
- m 2 E 



326 

count of Abraham's offering up his son. My dear, said M. 
de Bethune, what do you think this chapter teaches? The 
divine intention, answered she, to provide a better sacri- 
fice than Isaac, which intention Abraham prophetically in- 
timated when he said, My son, God mitt provide himself a 
lamb. True, my clear, said he. It also contains a pro- 
mise, that in his seed should all the nations of the earth be 
blessed. This seed, promised to our first parents under 
the name of the seed of the woman, is the Saviour of sin- 
ners. The blood shed under the Mosaic dispensation, was 
the gospel preached to that people. If it be asked why 
God could not pardon sin without an atonement of infinite 
value, I answer, It is sufficient for us that he has informed 
us of its impossibility, If, said the apostle, there had been 
a law given which could have given life, verily righteousness 
should have been by the law. Sinners cannot yield a per- 
fect obedience to a perfect law ; and a holy God cannot be 
pleased with imperfect obedience, or with obedience to an 
imperfect law. Salvation, therefore, must be by mere 
mercy, or not all ; and yet it could not have been by mer- 
cy at the expense of justice. God, in saving sinners has 
magnified his justice as well as his mercy, and has shown 
to angels and men the dreadful nature of sin by his detes- 
tation of it. And it is more than probable, that this display 
of its dire malignity will be instrumental in securing the 
everlasting obedience of many millions of creatures. Eve- 
ry attempt to save ourselves is not only an act of rebellion 
against the most High, and a contempt of the mediation 
of the Son of God, but resembles an attempt to wash the 
Ethiopian white, or to take from the leopard his spots. 

The youngest daughter, who w/as about ten, having 
read the second chapter of Ephesians. and his son, a boy 
about nine, having read the second psalm, he kneeled down 
and prayed. I shall never forget with what fervour, ac- 
companied by many tears, he recommended my case to 
God, pleading what Jesus Christ had done and suffered, 
and what he had promised to them who come to him for 
mercy. It was such a display of unaffected piety, and di- 



327 



vine eloquence, as I had never before been witness to. I 
seemed to myself to be in a new world. I had once 
thought myself something, but now I saw that I was no- 
thing. O my God, cried i, I am nothing but guilt and 
pollution in my own eyes : what then must I be in thine, 
who seest not as man seeth ! Wash me, I humbly beseech 
thee, in the blood of Jesus Christ, and I shall be clean. 
This I believe was the first real prayer I had ever uttered. 
I had said many prayers, but had never prayed in this man- 
ner. My God heard in heaven his dwelling place, and 
sent from above* and took me, and drew me out of many 
waters. 

M. de Bethune and his obliging and happy family en- 
treated me to sleep at their house. The day being closed, 
I gladly accepted the invitation, as the gates probably 
would have been shut before I could have arrived at St. 
Omer's. 

I had many interviews with this truly Christian family, 
and would gladly have accompanied them to America ; but 
my love to my parent and sisters would not permit me to 
gratify this desire. 

My dearest Miranda joins with me in the most affection- 
ate esteem. 

I am, dear Madam, 

Yours very sincerely, 

WILLIAM NEVILLE. 



LETTER LXI. 

From Mr. Neville to Mrs. Wovthington, 

DEAR. MADAM, 

I AM very glad that I mentioned to you my bad state of 
health. I am now much better. Indeed I felt better the 
day after I began to follow your advice. I sleep well, and 
my mind is more composed. 

I thought before that I was very temperate, and so I was, 



328 



If compared with many others, but not sufficiently so for 
a person in trouble. About eleven o'clock I generally 
found myself sinking, and ate a slice of ham or other meat 
to remove my faintness. I dined at three, drank tea at six, 
and supped at ten. I ate meat both at dinner and supper. 

I now take about eleven o'clock a small tumbler of red 
port and water warm, with a slice of toasted bread, and 
hope to leave this off when my stomach is strengthened 
by my new regimen. I dine about one ; and the principal 
part of my dinner consists of pudding and a bason of strong 
broth. I eat a great proportion of onions, turnips, pota- 
toes, and other boiled vegetables, with my meat, and some- 
times no meat at all. I think I am better those days that I 
do not eat it than when I do. I do not think that I ought 
entirely to leave it off, but I shall find by experience how 
often I ought to eat it. It is my intention never to eat it 
above once in the day, except upon some extraordinary oc- 
casion. 

I drink tea at five, and sup at eight. For supper I have 
sometimes boiled milk thickened with an egg, sometimes 
wine and water with toasted bread, and sometimes water- 
gruel. 

I find that I am now not so sinking, and that. I have a 
better appetite. Beside better health, good spirits, and 
sound sleep, another advantage attends this way of living. 
I used to be at a stand what to have for dinner and supper ; 
I was first tired of this, and then of that ; but now the 
plainest food is more grateful to me than the most dainty- 
used to be. 

I have consented, Madam, that my son and your niece 
shall be married on her birthday. My son has told you 
that the Mr. Cliffords, Mr. and Mrs. Barnwell, and Mr. 
Law are to dine with us. It had not been fully deter min- 
ed, when they were invited, that the marriage should take 
place on so early a clay. 

My family unite in best respects to you with, 
Dear Madam, 

Your sincere friend, 

JAMES NEVILLE, 



3Q9 



LETTER LXII. 

2 rom Siguier Albino to Sirs. Worthington. 

DEAR MADAM, 

'Y'oU have heard of the wonderful change which God 
has wrought in this family, and of the almost unexampled 
mercy which has been shown to me, a most guilty sinner. 
The mercy of God in saving me through Christ Jesus is 
infinite mercy. God is indeed love. I now know him not 
only to be the greatest, but the best of beings. After me 
no one will be obliged to despair. The Scriptures have 
long been a sealed book unto me ; but whereas I was blind, 
now I see. 

The correspondence between ycu, Madam, and my 
young friends, convinced me of this important truth, that 
Christ's kingdom is not of this world, nor governed by 
worldly maxims; that the Christian religion is intended to 
save mankind, and not to aggrandize them ; and that it 
has nothing to do with politics, or the government of king- 
doms. Civil governors have corrupted it, and exposed it 
to the derision of infidels, who in deriding this corruption 
of Christianity, have fancied themselves to be deriding 
Christianity itself. My detestation of popery exceeds, if 
possible, the blind zeal I lately had for its propagation. 

I cannot doubt that God, in every age, has had faithful 
servants in that corrupt church, who were not of it. I trust 
tke time will arrive, perhaps speedily, when there will 
not be a religious establishment in the world. God is pro- 
claiming in the rising states of America, that true religion 
needs not civil aid. I believe he is there showing the na- 
tions of the earth his power to protect his own cause, and 
that it does not require to be propped by their unhallowed 
hands. In fact he has hitherto supported it in spite of all 
their opposition. — I will not say concerning spiritual Ba- 
bylon, as was said concerning the typical, Hajifiy shall he 
he that taketh and dasheth thy little cues against the stories* 

2 E 2 



330 



No, I hope they will be slain by the sword which procee- 
deth out of the mouth of him who is called the ord of 
God, and then they will have reason, like me, to bless the 
arm that smote them. 

With what contempt have I formerly looked upon the 
humble Thomas Livingstone ! What folly was it in me to 
suppose, because I understood Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, 
that therefore I understood Christianity better than he ! 
But my pride has been laid in the dust : there let it for ev- 
er lie I O my God, if I have one wish concerning myself, 
it is that I may be clothed with humility. I am nothing; 
and I pray that I may be willing to be accounted the last 
and the least. 

I rejoice that my beloved pupil is about to be united to 
so amiable a Christian as your niece. I hope I shall never 
forget the gentleness, the humanity, and the affection with 
which she treated me, even while I was her bitter enemy* 
Charity, Christian charity suffe re th long, and is kind She 
overcame me much more effectually than if she had op- 
posed me with ail the virulence which human nature in 
its worst state can show. I afterward plainly perceived, 
that I was the vulture, and she the dove ; that I was the 
lion, and she the lamb. It is my happiness that the lion 
hath been made to eat straw like the ox. May that glori- 
ous prophecy be more and more accomplished to the ends 
of the earth. 

I have written a desultory letter, and have poured out 
my whole soul. I know you will rejoice with me, that one 
who was mad against the servants of the Redeemer is now 
sitting at his feet in his right mind. _ 
I am, with great esteem, dear Madam, 
Your friend and humble servant, 

ANTONIO ALBINO 



331 



LETTER LXIIL 
Mrom Miss Barnwell to Mrs. Wbrthington, 

DEAR MADAM, 

WlTH the divine permission before this arrives at Is < 
Iington, I shall have entered into a new relation. This 
morning my clear Mr. Neville presented me with a ring, 
•by which I am to be bound to be his loving and obedient 
wife. I am indeed under every obligation, as well as the 
divine command, to be so, and to study in every thing to 
render him happy. I hope, when the knot is tied, I shall 
not relax in my duty. I beg, my dear aunt, your prayers 
for us, that we may enter into this solemn and sacred en- 
gagement in the fear of the Lord ; and that we may endea- 
vour to promote his glory in every part of our conduct, and 
in every period of our lives. How has my gracious God 
favoured me ! How ought I to remember his goodness and 
his mercy, which have been very abundant to me from my 
birth to this moment ! I pray that my whole life may be 
dedicated to his service. 

My dear Mr. Neville yesterday entreated his father to 
take a part in the ceremony, by presenting him with my 
hand. He desired to be excused, observing, that the guil- 
ty part he had acted toward his dear Eusebia had made 
him determine to go mourning to the grave ; and that he 
could not take that pleasure in our nuptials which he should 
otherwise have taken, since every thing served to remind 
him of the treasure he had lost. 

Yesterday afternoon Mr Clifford and his son called at 
the Abbey, as they were returning home from Belcaster. 
They staid to tea, and the discourse turned upon the truth 
of the Mosaic history. Mr. Neville, since he dined with 
Mr. Clifford, had frequently lamented that a man of his 
good sense should be so unwise as to espouse the cause of 
infidelity. He therefore determined to seize the first op- 
portunity of endeavouring to show him the lolly, as well as 



o o ^ 

the guilt, of opposing divine revelation. An opportunity 
now presented itself ; for upon Mr. Neville's asking Mr. 
Charles Clifford what Commentary on the Scriptures he 
had, and upon his replying that their steward, who is a ve- 
ry pious man, had lent him Henry on the Old and New- 
Testament in six volumes folio, the following conversation 
took place. 

Mr. Clif. Six volumes in folio I Certainly the Bible must 
be a very obscure book to need six volumes in folio to il- 
lustrate it : and yet I doubt, after all, whether the writer 
has proved the tale of Moses's dividing the Red Sea to be 
true. 

Mr. Nev. It is very unfair, Sir, to carp at particular pas- 
sages in a historian, and to contend that this or that fact is 
incredible. We should first examine the character of the 
author, and inquire whether marks of veracity are visible in 
other parts of his history ; whether pride and vanity were 
his prevailing passions ; whether he had sinister ends to 
serve by propagating a falsehood ; whether he appears to 
have feared God ; and whether his history was well re- 
ceived by the people of his time. Now, Sir, you must 
acknowledge that the Jewish historian and legislator will 
bear to be examined by all these criteria. Why then do 
you reject his testimony ? 

Mr. Clif- I cannot think Moses was a wicked man ; but 
indeed, Sir, I cannot believe in Miracles. Only prove to 
me that any one miracle was ever wrought, and I will grant 
the pentateuch to be true. 

Mr. Nev. What kind of proof do you expect ? If that 
which is admitted for substantiating every other historic 
fact be admitted in this case, I can furnish you with it in 
plenty. 

Mr. Clif. Prove it to me by your own certain knowledge, 
Mr. Nev. If that were in my power, you would have 
just as good a right to question my testimony as that of 
other men, and probably would do so, concluding either 
that I was deceived as to the fact, or that the division of 
the waters was a natural phenomenon. 



33:3 



Mr. Clif. You are about right. 

Mr. Nev. With regard to myself, I have never heard 
nor read of any thing more wonderful than the diurnal 
motion of the earth, and its annual motion round the sun. 
In these works and ways of God we see great wisdom and 
great power exercised every moment. The Almighty not 
only caused these motions to commence at first, but he 
still continues them. The sun likewise has dispensed light 
and heat for several thousand years. These things certain- 
ly are as wonderful as the dividing of the Red Sea. The 
formation of man also at first, must have been an act of as 
great power and wisdom as the raising of him from the 
dead. A miracle is distinguished from the other mighty- 
works of God in this way. The latter, being performed 
for constant and general utility, are seen every day ; 
whereas miracles are performed occasionally, and for par- 
ticular purposes. If I had never seen a comet, it would 
be unreasonable to discredit the evidence of those who have 
seen them. In like manner, if I have not seen the dead 
raised, or the eyes of the blind opened, I ought not lightly 
to doubt the testimony of those who have. 

Mr. Clif. There is some reason in what you have said. 
He who formed the sun, and gave us life and breath and 
being, certainly can do every thing. But will he do any 
thing in vain ? I cannot discover the utility of miracles. 

Mr. Nev. If miracles have never been necessary, I will 
grant there never have been any. For my part, I do not 
perceive how Moses, who had been forty years absent from 
Egypt, could have accomplished the emancipation of such 
a body of slaves without a single act of resistance on their 
part, but by .the intervention of miracles. Pharoah parted 
with them with as much reluctance as the West-Indian 
planters would part with their negroes. Hence arises 
another reason for the necessity of the miracles performed 
in Egypt. When they were in the wilderness forty years, 
without a succession of miracles they must have perished. 
And without the instrumentality of miracles, such a nume- 
rous body of people could not have been induced to env 



334 



brace a religion so different from every other, and so appa- 
rently contrary to their temporal interest. 

Mr. Clif. I have had my doubts whether they ever were 
in Egypt* or in the wilderness. I confess, if they were, 
your reasoning would be conclusive. 

Mr. Nev. Might you not as well doubt whether there 
was ever such a man as Moses ? And when you have done 
this, you may also doubt of the existence of Cyrus, of 
Alexander, and of Julius Csesar. But, not to mention how 
much the Mosaic history is corroborated by the testimonies 
of Strabo, Diodorus Siculus, Trogus Pompeius, and other 
heathen writers, there is that internal evidence in the 
Scriptures which abundantly confirms them. The poste- 
rity of Abraham also now exist, and, with as little real 
piety in general as any people ever possessed, are invinci- 
bly attached to their own religion ; and they have been 
kept a distinct people in all their dispersions, as their sa- 
cred books foretold they should be. The divine intention 
in thus preserving them is, that, when the time prefixed 
shall arrive, they may return to their own land, it can- 
not be doubted that they are descended from Abraham, 
Isaac, and Jacob, whose sepulchre was among them. The 
burying place of Raphael was well known. The carrying 
up of the bones of Joseph from Egypt was a public act ; 
and the history of that, and of a thousand other things, 
could not have been imposed upon a nation, if fabulous. 
In the time of David literature had made a considerable pro- 
gress, as the inimitable odes written by him, and by others 
of his age, testify. Wherever and whenever the penta- 
teuch was composed, writing could not have been a very 
uncommon attainment, since the judicial law obliged hixa 
who divorced his wife to give her a certificate of it in wri- 
ting. If the author therefore of the Jewish history had 
given a fabulous account, it would not have maintained its 
credit, but would have been contradicted by other histo- 
rians. The pentateuch relates that the Israelites were not 
the original inhabitants of the land of Canaan. Their wars 



335 



with the former inhabitants prove the truth of this asser- 
tion. Of the reality of those wars there is this presump- 
tive proof. If the history had been fabulous, it would have 
been written under the influence of that disposition which 
all men have to extol the prowess of their ancestors and 
countrymen, and would have contained a continued series 
of successes. Circumcision and sacrifices, it is highly pro- 
bable from the very nature of them, owed their origin to 
a divine command. The probability of this with respect 
to the latter is greatly increased, when we consider that 
almost every nation has endeavoured to render its gods 
propitious by sacrifices. There must have been some 
cause of the universal prevalence of such a practice. No- 
thing in the nature of the thing itself is sufficient to ac- 
count for it. A history, therefore, asserting sacrifices to 
be of divine institution, is highly credible. The children 
of Israel are represented as having been a most wicked 
and rebellious people while they were in the wilderness, 
Their posterity would not have received this account from 
any writer, if they had not known it to be true. The in- 
cest of Reuben, the wickedness of Joseph's brethren and 
the disgraceful origin of a considerable part of the tribe of 
Judah, would not have been recorded by a historian who 
intended that his work should be read by the nation whose 
history he wrote, if they had not been universally acknow- 
ledged. His recording these things is a proof of his faith- 
fulness and impartiality. The same may be said of the 
sin of Aaron in making the golden calf, undoubtedly in 
imitation of the Egyptian Apis, from which also no mean 
proof arises that the Jewish nation had been in Egypt. 
Other arguments might be brought to prove the truth of 
the Mosaic history ; but these ou;rht to convince a wise 
man that it is imprudent to oppose divine revelation, espe- 
cially when that opposition will be followed by dreadful 
consequences if it is true, and can be of no service if it 
should be false. 

Mr. Clif. i acknowledge the reasonableness of your last 
observation,, and must also confess that your arguments in 



336 



defence of the Mosaic history have some weight. I sin- 
cerely thank you for the concern you manifest for my wel- 
fare. Bat really , . Sir, your endeavouring to prove the truth 
of these things gives me pain. Since it is not my interest 
that they should be true, it cannot be my interest to believe 
them. And indeed the greatest pleasure that I experience 
is, either to forget them, or to persuade myself that they 
are false. 

Mr. Nev. Sir, I truly pity you. It is an error to suppose 
that to believe divine revelation would make you misera- 
ble : it would make you one of the most happy men in the 
world. Can a belief that God pardons sinners make a man 
miserable ? Yet this is the subject of the Old and New- 
Testament. Under the Old Testament Jehovah proclaim- 
ed his name, The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gra- 
cious, long -suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth, 
keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity and trails* 
gression and sin. And in the New Testament the method 
of pardon is clearly revealed. A person's being a great 
sinner is no greater an impedement to his pardon than his 
being a little sinner. The only obstacle is, his treading 
under foot that remedy which alone can heal him. 

Mr. Clif. My dear Sir, what you say I doubt not you 
believe ; but it administers no consolation to me. If I be- 
lieve any thing, it is that I am under the power of Satan : 
for whenever I purpose to do any thing that was good, or 
to alter my course of life, I was certain to be ten times the 
worse for it ; so that now I have entirely left off resolving. 

Mr. Nev. I feel for you. And do not you know the cause 
of these disappointments ? 

Mr. Clif. I have told you. I believe that I am under the 
power of Satan. 

Mr. Nev. That undoubtedly is one reason, but not the 
greatest. You have rejected the only Physician of souls. 
You have forsaken the fountain of living waters, and have 
hewn out broken cisterns that can hold no water. 

Mr. Clif. What then would you advise me to do ? 

Mr. Nev. My friend; you have attempted to do (as ydu 



337 



justly term it) often enough already, and have not succeed- 
ed. The forgiveness of sins through Jesus Christ is pro- 
claimed to sinners, and they have nothing to do in order to 
receive it, but to apply to God for it in his name. But our 
merciful Father is beforehand with us even in this respect, 
since he who sincerely embraces the doctrine of salvation 
by Jesus Christ, is in possession of his pardon, although he 
may be unacquainted with it. 

Mr. Clifford thanked Mr. Neville, and told him he had 
a heart harder than the nether mill-stone. He said that 
he could not pray ; but he begged that we would pray for 
him. He appeared to be much affected. Very few are 
called at the eleventh hour : yet there are some. I hope 
and pray that this gentleman may be of that number. 

My letter being wanted for the post, I must conclude 
with presenting the respects of Mr. Neville's whole fami- 
ly, and with assuring my dearest aunt that I ever remain 
Her dutiful and affectionate niece, 

MIRANDA BARNWELL, 



LETTER LXIV. 

From Miss Neville to Mrs. IVorthington, 

DEAR MADAM, 

T- HE task of giving you an account of my brother's mar- 
riage having at my desire been committed to me, and it 
being my intention to give you as early intelligence as pos- 
sible, and to be particular in my account of the occurren- 
ces of the day, I will endeavour to put down things as they 
occur. 

My brother, his bride elect, and myself went this after- 
noon to Ringdale, to drink tea with our rector, Dr. Mild- 
may, and to concert with him the plan to be pursued to- 
morrow morning. Mr. Barnwell, among other hard 
speeches to his daughter, having constantly prognosticat- 
ed that she will be a beggar, and he and his wife being te 

2 F 



338 



dine here tomorrow, my father wished the marriage to be 
kept as secret as possible till he himself shall find it out by 
inference, which he certainly must do at dinner, as my 
new sister will sit at the head of the table, and as we shall 
be dressed in white. 

Dr. Mildmay and the clerk are to be at church at half 
after eight. The Mr. Cliffords have promised to be here 
by eight. My father has fixed upon the old gentleman as 
a proper person for performing the ceremony of present- 
ing the bride This he intends to he a compliment to 
him, in return for his kindness in defending your niece 
against her father and Mr. Taw, and for his generous offer 
if she should marry with my father's approbation,. Al- 
though Mr Clifford's intention cannot now be put in exe- 
cution, it does not on that account make a less impression 
on my dear parent. 

Dr. Mildmay is a gentleman of considerable learning, 
and of elegant manners. He possesses a most benevolent 
disposition, and which is better than all, preaches the pure 
gospel of salvation by Jesus Christ. But I am obliged to 
add, that I fear it may be truly said of him, as it was of the 
church of Ephesus, that he has left his first love. He mar- 
ried a lady with a great fortune, who is very affable, and 
who is what the world would term a very good wife. But 
a wife may have many excellencies, and not be born again. 
She may be a good wife in other respects, and not a suit- 
able wife for a disciple and minister of Jesus Christ. Fa- 
mily prayer will drag on heavily? if the wife take no plea- 
sure in that solemn duty, After having been practised or 
submitted to with reluctance; it will many times be entire- 
ly discontinued, as it is I find in Dr. Mildmay's family* 
Eli, though a servant of God, stands lowest in the cata? 
logue of saints, on account of his sinful indulgence to his 
family, which ended in their ruin, and in his own distress. 
Dr. Mildmay is an indulgent husband, and a kind master : 
and being a good-natured man, and keeping a plentiful ta- 
ble, his house is resorted to by many who call themselves 
bis friends, but who, I .fear,. are not the friends of the Re- 



33§ 



weemer. Such society preys upon the heart of vital godli- 
ness, and leaves scarcely the appearance of religion. Of 
what advantage is Dr. Miidmay's preaching tiie gospel, 
when hrs family, and ati his parishioners perceive it has no 
apparent effect upon himself? Will they not compare 
him to a way-post, which points out the road to others, but 
does not move a step itself ? And must not his real friends 
fear that, like a planet, he is a dark body himself, notwith- 
standing he enlightens others? How can a person who 
takes up the cross of Christ daily, who is dead to the 
world, who has his conversation in heaven, who has com- 
munion with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ, 
and who prays without ceasing, indulge himself in mu- 
sic, dancing, and cards, and in the company of irreligious 
persons almost every day in the week ? Can he who be- 
lieves that Christ came into the world to redeem him from 
his vain conversation, enter upon secret prayer, without 
resolving to break off every sinful indulgence^ and without 
determining, like Joshua, that both he and his house w ill 
serve the Lord ? 

My brother related to Dr. Mildmay the unkind'ness of 
Mr. Barnwell to his daughter, because she would not pro- 
mise to go no more into a meeting The doctor behaved 
very differently from Mr. Law. He said, that he wished 
every person to go where he could profit most ; that the 
going of his parishioners to meeting gave him no um- 
brage ; that he could not doubt of the gospel's being 
preached there ; and that he sincerely wished success to 
the gospel wherever it was preached. Indeed, Madam, 
he is a most amiable man : and if he had married a wife 
who knew and loved the truth, he would probably not only 
have preached, but adorned the gospel. Riches may b£ 
bought too dearly. If his wife had not discouraged the 
practice of family worship, he would no doubt have conti- 
nued it ; and if the visits of irreligious persons had not 
been thus introduced into his house, closet prayer and di- 
vine meditation would not have received a deadly wound 
from the frothy and trifling conversation of worldly men. 



340 



So far I had written last night. This morning Mr. Clif- 
ford and his son arrived at the Abbey a quarter before 
eight. My friend, said my father immediately, as you 
have made Miss Barweli the generous offer of five hun- 
dred pounds if she marry with my approbation, I request 
you to perform the ceremony of giving her to the bride- 
groom. In half an hour she is to be married to a young 
man of this parish, and the wedding is to be kept at my 
house. I will do it with pleasure, answered Mr. Clifford ; 
and I will not only do what I promised, but I will endea- 
vour to assist them in other respects. Mr. Charles Clif- 
ford said the same. Some severe observations were made 
by Mr. Clifford on the conduct of Mr. Barnwell which 
I shall not repeat. 

A servant came to tell us that Dr. Mildmay was in the 
church waiting for us. Your niece and I immediately re- 
paired thither, where we found Thomas and Mary Living- 
stone. We were soon joined by the Mr. Cliffords and 
my brother. The old gentleman looked about him w r hen 
he came in. Where, cried he, is the bridegroom? I 
suppose master Livingstone is not the young man my 
friend Neville told me of? Miss Barnwell, said he, where 
is your intended husband ? Indeed, Sir, said she, I expect- 
ed him here by this time. Well, Miss Barnwell, said my 
brother, will you accept of me? Sir, replied she, curtsying, 
I cannot refuse the honour you do me. I did not think, Sir, 
said Mr. Clifford to my brother, that I should have the plea- 
sure this day to congratulate you on your marriage. I assure 
you I do it with great satisfaction, and am happy you have 
made so wise a choice. I shall esteem it an honour to pre- 
sent this lady to you ; and I am persuaded you will receive 
a fortune in her, if not with her. — The ceremony was soon 
performed, to the great satisfaction of all present. 

I intended to relate the whole of this day's proceedings ; 
but a post would be thereby lost. I therefore conclude 
with assuring you that I am, Dear Madam, 
Your sincere friend, 

And faithful servant, 

MARIA NEVILLE. 



341 



LETTER LXV. 

From Miss Neville to Mrs, Worthington. 

DEAR MADAM) 

I CONCLUDED my last letter with the .pleasing ac- 
count of my having a new sister. After we had breakfast- 
ed, during which time many obliging things were said by 
the Mr. Cliffords, my father observed, that if his dear Eu- 
S.ebia had been here, his happiness would have been as 
complete as mortality can possibly enjoy. This is the 
sorrowful string which my parent is continually striking : 
and it renews my grief, on account of the unkind treat- 
ment she received from me. I can only say with Paul, 
■that I did it ignorantly in unbelief. 

Mr. Clifford remarked, that persecution on account of 
religion came with a bad grace from his friend Barnwell, 
who had no religion at all. He indeed, said he, goes to 
church pretty constantly, except in September, when par* 
tridge shooting comes in ; but he knows nothing of Chris- 
tianity, nor of the sects into which it is divided. Every 
one who dissents from the church of England he calls a 
Presbyterian. 

lfs said my father, there were no other proof of his w r ant 
. of religion, his being a persecutor would abundantly prove 
it. The less a man knows, the more positive he generally 
is. But I have the least reason of any person living to 
reproach Mr. Barnwell. I always considered him as a 
person destitute of religion. But a person may be very 
zealous, and his zeal may be exceedingly culpable, and 
.even worse than irreligion. This, Sir, was my own case. 

Pray, Mr. Neville, said Mr. Clifford* what in a few- 
words do you think is the essence of Christianity ? This 
. question was productive of the following conversation. 

Mr Nev. The love of God, with which the loveof man- 
kind is invariably connected. And he only loves God, who 
loves divine revelation j for divine revelation contains the 
mind of God. 

2 F % 



342 



Mr. Clif. Wherefore is that worship given to a man 
which is due only to God ? This practice, and the wicked 
lives of Christians, have been great stumbling-blocks to 
me. 

Mr. Nev. No Christian worships a man. The Socini- 
ans, it is true, have laid this to our charge. We worship 
the Messiah, the Son of God, but not as a different God 
from the Father : much less do we believe his body and 
soul to be God. Is it impossible for him who is every 
where, and can do every thing, to manifest himself to his 
creatures I 

Mr. Clif. I do not know that it is : for although neither 
our bodily senses, nor our mental powers, can comprehend 
infinity, yet it does not follow that God cannot manifest 
himself to his creatures in a manner and degree suited to 
their capacities. 

Mr. Nev. You have given my own, and every Trinita- 
rian's sentiments upon this subject. Let me further ask 
you, If God were graciously disposed to manifest his mo- 
ral perfections to his rational creatures, would he act im- 
properly if, assuming a form like their own, and thus put- 
ting himself upon a level with them, he were to dwell 
among them ? 

Mr. Clif. I should esteem myself perverse, were I to 
say that such a way of proceeding would be improper. I 
will also grant that a Being, possessing infinite perfections, 
cannot be immediately discerned by finite beings. I inge- 
nuously confess, therefore, that you have answered my ob- 
jection. 

Mr. Nev. I hope. Sir, I shall live to see you a Christian. 
There is nothing in Christianity contrary to right rea- 
son, although every thing in it is contrary to the reason of 
those men, who, through the influence of the god of this 
-world, are dupes to their own folly. But further, do you 
think it possible for God and his rational creatures to be at 
variance, and that they, through their perverseness, should 
hate him who is the fountain of natural and moral perfec- 
tion ? 



343 

Mr. Clif. I have had too sad experience of this. 
Mr. Nev. And I likewise. 

Mr. Clif. Your sins have been mole-hills: mine have 
been mountains. 

Mr. Nev. I think the contrary. You have not murder- 
ed a child because she feared God ; however, we will not 
dispute this point. Granting that an enmity exists between 
God and his creatures, must not a reconciliation take place 
before they can for ever dwell in his presence ? 

Mr. Clif. There can be no doubt of it. 

Mr. Nev. I think not. What method then did it be- 
some the divine Being to take, that he might render his 
enemies a grateful, loving, and obedient people ? If he had 
forgiven them at the expense of his truth and justice, 
might they not at some future period have violated the di- 
vine law with hopes of impunity ? 

Mr. Clif. Perhaps that might have been the case. But 
I think I see what you are aiming at, and I beg you to pro- 
ceed. 

Mr. Nev. I hope, Sir, you will soon acknowledge, that 
there is nothing in Christianity so contrary to common 
sense as its adversaries would insinuate. Suppose the di- 
vine Being were to pardon some of these rebels, would it 
not be wise in him to suspend the pardon upon such condi- 
tions, as that they might behold in it a terrible display of 
his justice, and of his severity against sinners, as wellasa 
display of his mercy ? 

Mr. Clif. How can this be accomplished ? 

Mr. Nev. Would not the exhibition of a voluntary sure- 
ty, acting and suffering in their stead, answer this end ? 

Mr. Clif. I think not. Toes not Christianity confound 
moral justice with commercial? ]t is the latter only which 
admits of a substitute. Crimes are not transferable, like 
property. Commercial justice is satisfied, if the debt be 
paid by a surety, the recovery of property being the only 
end sought after. But where the end is example to the 
community at large, justice requires the punishment to be 
inflicted upon the person of the offender. In case of mur. 



344 

der, for instance, the death of a substitute would notmak.r 
a proper impression upon society of the evil of the crime, 
much less of the justice of the government which admit- 
ted it. 

Mr Sex. This is one of the most plausible objections 
against the doctrine of the atonement that I have met with ; 
and if the Governor of the world were obliged to proceed 
according to the rules of strict distributive justice among 
mortals. I should acknowledge it to be unanswerable. 

Mr. Clif. If your scheme require the supreme Being to 
depart from what is accounted justice among his creatin es? 
how will you prove it to be rational I Does not reason dic- 
tate what is right between man and man ? 

Mr. Nev. May not a human government, in extraordi- 
nary cases, deviate from the letter of the law, and yet ad- 
here to the spirit of it? May not the ends of distributive 
jusrice be answered, while the strict rules of it are dispens- 
ed with I 

Mr. CihT. Give me an example. 

Mr. Nev. You remember the case of Z-deucus I 

Mr. Clif. Yes. He made a law, I think, that the eyes 
of adulterers should be put out; and his son was the first 
transgressor. 

Mr. Nev. It was so. And partly from a regard to righ- 
teousness, and partly from compassion to his son he com- 
manded that one of his own eyes shcuia be put out, and 
one of those of his son. 

Mr. Clif. There was something extraordinary in this 
proceeding. It did not accord with the rules of strict ais- 
tributive justice. 

Mr. Nev. True; and yet it was adapted to answer all 
the ends of ?;ood government in a greater degree than if 
the son had lost both his eyes, 

Mr. C lit. How does that appear? 

Mr Nev. Would not the fact be rendered more notori- 
ous ? And would it not become a subject of ^universal con* 

versation ? 

Mr, Clif, Undoubtedly. 



345 



Mr. Nev. And would not the public be powerfully im- 
pressed with a sense of the determination of the lawgiver 
to maintain his ,law ? 

Mr. Clif. So indeed it should seem. 

Mr Nev. Did it not at the same time afford such a 
proof of love to the son, as must tend to melt his heart 
into repentance ? 

Mr. Clif. Certainly. 

Mr. Nev. It follows, that the spirit of the law was pre- 
served, though the letter of it was dispensed with ; and 
that the whole procedure was not only reasonable but wise, 
and worthy of a great legislator. 

Mr. Clif. I perceive whereabouts you are ; and I ac- 
knowledge that I do not at present see the impropriety of 
the application. 

Mr. Nev. Give me leave to ask, whether, while you 
accuse Christianity of confounding moral and commercial 
justice, you yourself do not confound those laws and rules 
which are binding on the subject, and proper, in ordinary 
cases, with those which are suitable to the legislature, and 
proper only in extraordinary cases ? You do not blame the 
government of your country, after the rebellion in 1715, 
for not executing strict distributive justice upon all the in- 
dividuals who had joined with the Pretender : on the con- 
trary you praise its clemency. I confess, however, that I 
consider it as a proof of that imperfection which is com- 
mon to all human governments. Mercy could not, in ma- 
ny instances, be exercised but at the expense of justice : 
and I suppose the rebellion which followed in 1745, might 
be the consequence of the escape of great numbers in the 
former who had deserved to die. Could our legislators 
have devised an expedient, by which the justice of the 
country would, as to the spirit of it, have been fully satis- 
fied, the lives of the deluded people spared, and their hearts 
also melted into repentance, you would have applauded 
them still more, and would not have thought of objecting 
that they had deviated from those rules of justice which- 
ought to be adhered to in ordinary cases. 



346 

Mr. Clif. I acknowledge it. 

Mr. Nev. The truth is, my friend, if God form a sys- 
tem of operation, it may he expected to surpass the ordina- 
ry conceptions of puny mortals. Such is Christianity. It 
is an expedient worthy of the divine Being ; an interfe- 
rence, whereby he saves a perishing world in a way consis- 
tent with the glory of his moral government. While it 
breathes peace and good will to men, it ascribes glory to 
God in the highest, Your conceptions must be expanded? 
if you become a Christian. 

Mr. Clif. Well, Sir, I will endeavour to think of these 
things. I certainly, as well as many others, have con- 
founded the corruptions of Christianity with Christianity 
itself; and being averse to a religion which cannot be 
made to agree with my course of life, have never serious- 
ly examined its evidences. I feel to this hour like a man 
in chains ; nor do I know how to extricate myself. Pray 
to the Lord for me, a poor miserable sinner ! 

You will easily conceive, Madam, the pleasure which 
this conversation gave us. I could have wished for a 
continuance of it; but the Mr. Cliffords and my brother 
had agreed to take a ride before dinner, which preven- 
ted it. 

About noon Mr. and Mrs. Barnwell came in their chari- 
ot. There were in the parlour when they entered, my 
father, my new sister and myself. The usual salutations 
being ended, Mr. Barnwell, looking very angrily at his 
daughter, and then turning to my father, said, I doubt not 
but this rebellious girl has given me a fine character. She 
has set up for a saint, and most probably has represented 
me and Mrs. Barnwell as her persecutors. I know you, 
Sir, to be a humane and worthy man; but your generosity, 
in this instance, is sadly misplaced. I wish you not to 
countenance her. If she had a drop of my blood in her 
veins, she would scorn thus to be an intruder. She has a 
home to reside at, where she might have been as happy as 
any person living, if her head had not been turned about 
reiigion ; but she has ruined herself, and she must abide 
by the consequences. 



347 



I know, said my father, you are much mistaken respect- 
ing some things of which you accuse your child, which 
renders it probable that you may err concerning the rest. 
You intimate, Sir, that she has given you a bad character. 
So far from it, that I assure you she has never mentioned 
you but with reverence and esteem. That you have per- 
secuted your own child, I cannot doubt : but I have learn- 
ed this from others, and not from her ; and I am persuad- 
ed she is more sorry on your account than on her own. 

I perceive, Sir, replied Mr. Barnwell, that you are pre- 
judiced in her favour. But permit me to ask what you 
would do, if your daughter were to degrade herself and 
you by going to hear a cobbler hold forth in a barn, and by 
associating with the dregs of the people ? 

I would accompany her, Sir, answered my father. It is 
true I have, like you, thought otherwise, and have in con- 
sequence of it lost a most amiable and dutiful child. Were 
I to say that I have been her murderer, I should come but 
too near the truth. If you should ever be so happy as to 
become a Christian, you will not think it dishonourable to 
worship God in the company of poor people, or in a mean 
place. 

A Christian ! cried Mr. Barnwell with surprise ; do 
you take me for a heathen ? I neither rob nor cheat, and I 
pay every one his due. 

You suppose then, said my father, that the heathens did 
not pay their debts ? 

I am not able, Sir, replied he, to dispute with you ; but 
I know very well when children are disobedient to their 
parents. And I assure you, Madam (speaking to my sister) 
w r hen you come home, I will make you turn over a new 
leaf, and behave a little more like a Christian than you 
have done, whether I be a Christian or not. If you had 
not lost all sense of shame, you would have returned long 
before this, and would not have trespassed on the good 
nature of Mr. Neville. Had I turned you out of doors ? 
which indeed you well deserved, you could but have acted 
in this manner, 



J 



348 



My dear sister answered only with tears. 

My father told Mr. Barnwell, that although he had net 
literally turned his daughter out of doors, he had behaved 
as cruelly to her as if he had. I have been informed, con- 
tinued he, that you would not suffer her to come into your 
presence, but made her live in the kitchen with the ser- 
vants. You could not expect this to be kept a secret. 
Judge then how such conduct must injure a child in the 
eyes of the world, who, not taking the trouble to enter 
into an examination of particulars, would certainly jus- 
tify the parent. What man of character would marry a 
wife whom her parent had accused of being undutiful ? 
That it was her duty to obey all your lawful commands, I 
grant : but if you commanded her to do any thing contra- 
ry to the laws of either God or man, you, Sir, were the 
aggressor, and not she. Your conduct however has not 
produced all the effect that might have been expected from 
such behaviour of a father. A young man has offered to 
many her, and I believe they love each other. What for* 
tune do you intend to give her ? 

I suppose he is a Presbyterian parson, answered Mr, 
Barnwell, contemptuously. If so, I don't doubt but they 
love each other. Such refuse find out each other by instinct. 
I will not give them a shilling. Mr. Charles Clifford 
once paid his addresses to her : but forsooth she expected 
him to say his catechism to her. 

Indeed, Sir, said Mrs. Barnwell, Miss Barnwell has 
acted very imprudently, as well as undutifully ; and Mr. 
Barnwell plainly foresees, that if she should not be redu- 
ced to beggary, yet she will sink into one of the lower 
orders of the people. 

My father, perceiving that talking to Mr. and Mrs. 
Barnwell was of no use, left us. After this Mrs. Barn- 
well said tauntingly to my sister, Your pride has been so 
great, Madam, that you would not send for any clothes or 
linen, and I suppose by this time you have scarcely any 
left : but if you will not ask for them, and very submis- 
sively too, were I Mr. Barnwell you should never have 
them. 



245 



Madam, cried my sister, truth obliges me to say, that 
I should not have experienced the ill treatment I have re- 
ceived from my once tender parent, had it not been for 
the ill offices you have constantly rendered me. He has 
been the dupe of your artifice. With regard to clothes, if 
my father will give me nothing, I ought not to wish to 
make a grand appearance. I hope I shall neither ask for 
them, nor want them. 

At these words the colour came into Mrs, Barnwell's 
face, and she poured forth a torrent of abuse, with which 
I shall not defile my paper. We left them, and went to 
dress for dinner, and I then wrote so far my account of 
the proceedings of this happy day. 

I believe when Mrs. Barnwell sees my sister at dinner, 
she will not think that she stands very much in need of 
clothes. It cannot be long kept secret that there is a wed- 
ding. Mrs. Mildmay and ail our family will be in white, 
and Mrs. Neville will sit at the head of the table. 

Mr. Small, a tenant of my father's, has just called to 
know whether we have any commands which he can exe- 
cute in London. I will send this letter by him, as you will 
have it a day sooner ; and should any thing occur worth 
relating, either your niece or I will write to-morrow. She 
is now with me, and desires your prayers for her happi- 
ness, and that she may conduct herself with propriety in 
this new state. It is agreed that she shall write to-mor- 
row. She then hopes to inform you when we shall be in 
town. 

I am, dear Madam, 
Your faithful and obedient servant, 

MARIA NLVILLE, 



350 



LETTER LXVI. 

From Mrs. Neville to Mrs. Worthington. 

MY DEAR AUNT, 

Miss NEVILLE has informed you of my interview 
with my father and Mrs. Barnwell, and of some of her un- 
kind speeches. She has however considerably altered her 
behaviour, and we are all invited to dine at Barnwell Hall, 
Mr. Neville and my dear husband would not promise to 
accept the invitation, till they had consulted me. I told 
them that the sufferings I had endured in my father's 
house, my God having much more than recompensed me 3 
I considered as though they had never been. Besides^ 
said I, how much better is it to suffer injuries than to do 
them. These reasons satisfied my friends, and we are to 
go on Monday next. On Tuesday we shall prepare for 
our journey ; and on Wednesday evening, with the divine 
permission, Mr Neville and Miss Neville, and my dear 
Mr. Neville and myself, hope to see you at Islington in 
good health. 

Maria intimated in her letter how elegantly I w r as dress- 
ed. This I submitted to, rather than desired. In future 
I shall be left in that respect to my own judgment. 

When we were called to dinner, my friends were in the 
dining-room, and I went without ceremony and placed 
myself at the head of the table. This and my gay appear- 
ance astonished my father and Mrs. Barnwell. She sat at 
my left side, and immediately looked at my hand. She 
afterward said, that the moment I sat down she knew 
I was married. She remained silent ; but my father could 
not conceal his surprise. Am I at a wedding, cried he to 
Mr. Neville, or am I dreaming ? My girl at the head of 
your table, and dressed like a princess ? This is what I 
cannot comprehend. 

I think, Sir, replied Mr. Neville, there is no difficulty ia 
understanding that every one does not view your daughter 



351 



in the same bad light in which you have done. The head 
of the table is the place where my son's wife ought to sit. 

Silence ensued for nearly half a minute. My father 
then said, My friends, I am astonished ; but I am happy, 
and I am thankful. I cannot forget that I am a father, nor 
did I ever forget it. I acknowledge that I have treated my 
child very roughly, and I am sorry that I have done so. I 
did it because I considered her as rushing upon her own 
destruction : it gives me pleasure that I have been mis- 
taken. 

Sir, replied Mr. Neville, you have said enough. My 
son did not ask your consent, for two reasons : first, be- 
cause he saw that your mind was unhappily alienated from 
your daughter ; and in the next place, because he wished 
to show you that he expected no portion. 

Be assured, Sir, said Mr. William Neville, that every 
thing which has passed is buried in oblivion. You had an 
aversion to strictness in religion, thinking it would injure 
your daughter in the esteem of many persons, as it certain- 
ly has done. We all know you acted according to your 
views of propriety, and we excuse you. Indeed, all would 
be well, were there not another tribunal at which the issue 
will be more important. The plea of ignorance will there 
be over-ruled, because the statute-book of heavenis in your 
hand. 

Friend Barnwell, cried Mr. Clifford, you and I have 
been very unwise. I, for rejecting a volume which pro- 
motes the happiness of those who follow its instructions, 
in this world, and which will, I doubt not, make them hap- 
py hereafter ; and you, for thinking yourself a Christian 
when you do not know the first principles of Christianity. 
Whenever you talk aboitt it, you represent a person's pay- 
ing his debts as the whole of Christianity : whereas that is 
what men of all religions are agreed in. 

I know so much, Sir, answered my father, as not to be 
drawn into a dispute about it. Besides, I feel myself so 
very happy in my new son-in-law, and my other new rela- 
tions, that I have no mind to put myself out of humour. 



352 



Well, my dear children, continued he, I hope, as a proof of 
your being reconciled to me, that you will dine with me on 
Monday next, together with ail my friends who sit round 
this friendly board. 

This, alter I had been privately consulted, was agreed to, 
Many obliging things were said to us by all present, the 
repetition of which would be uninteresting. Even Mrs. 
Barnwell was not sparing in her compliments. They came 
indeed wkh not the best grace from her ; but neither I nor 
my friends were disposed to be offended. My father was 
happy in a high degree on account of my marriage: for 
notwithstanding his dislike of religion and of religious peo- 
ple^ yet his hatred of religion in me was chiefly because he 
thought it would hinder my wordly advancement ; and as 
he thinks that is secured, every thing else is with him of 
smal) importance. 

I should here conclude, did I not know that you would 
be glad to hear the substance of a discourse between Mr. 
Neville and Dr. Mildmay. 

The doctor began with saying, that as God in his kind 
providence had delivered Mr. Neville and his family from 
the errors of popery, and which was of much greater im- 
portance, had brought them to the knowledge of salvation 
by Jesus Christ, he hoped he should have the pleasure of 
seeing them at church. 

Mr. Neville replied, I would gladly attend, Sir, on your 
ministry, if I could conscientiously do it ; for I believe you 
have clearer views of the nature of the gospel than th^ 
clergy of the church of England in general, or even than 
many dissenting ministers : but I am not convinced either 
of the lawfulness of religious establishments, or of their use-* 
fulness. 

If, Sir, answered Dr. Mildmay, you have any scruples 
about the lawfulness of attending at the national church, I 
will not urge it ; for I wish every person to goto that place 
of worship where he can gain the most advantage. I preach, 
J am persuaded, the same gospel which the apostles preach- 
ed ; but I am not so uncharitable as to suppose that it is 



353 



not also preached among dissenters of different denomina- 
tions. I wish, however, to hear your objections to reli- 
gious establishments. 

I disapprove of them, Sir, answered Mr. Neville, be- 
cause they are unscriptural. We read of them no where 
in the New Testament, except in those parts which pre- 
dict the corruption of Christianity. The revelation of John, 
especially, treats of the grand apostasy which was to take 
place in the Christian church through the interference of 
the kings of the earth. From the moment I understood 
the predictions of that apostasy, I had not one word more 
to say in behalf of the church of Rome : and as soon as 
Doctor Mildmay views them in the same light that I do, 
the church of England, and every national church, must 
sink in his esteem. Our Lord declared before Pilate, that 
his kingdom was not of this world. Every church invest- 
ed with worldly power, and endowed by the state with rich- 
es, is related to that apostate church which is drunken with 
the blood of the saints. However corrupt in doctrine or 
in practice private churches may have been, they have ne- 
ver been bloody and persecuting churches. Happily for 
them, that has not been in their power. 

May not every religious duty be practised, said Dr. 
Mildmay, and every religious blessing be enjoyed, as w^ell 
in the church of England as among dissenters ? 

I think not, answered Mr. Neville ; Christians in church- 
fellowship are warranted by Scripture to expect conside- 
rable advantages, provided they conform to the rules laid 
down by their divine Master, to which rules a national 
church cannot conform They are not united together 
merely to hear the gospel in one building, but it is also 
their duty to choose one to preside over them, who they 
judge will watch for their souls, as one that must give 
an account ; and suitable directions are given them for 
that purpose. T^eir pastor must be a lover of the gospel, 
a lover of good men, and one that rules well his own 
house ; none of which qualifications is « ! eemed of any im- 
portance in a national church. It is likewise the duty of a 

2 G 2 



Christian church to watch over the lives and conversations 
of their pastor, and cf each other, and to consider them- 
selves as one body, of which Christ is the head. They 
jointly partake of the Lord's supper, thereby professing to 
be members not only of Christ, but of each other. When 
men destitute of the Spirit of Christ come in among them 
unawares, and when this is manifested by their ungodly 
conversation, provided they do not put away the unclean 
from among them, they may expect that the candlestick 
of the gospel will be soon removed, and that they will be- 
come a mere worldly society. When this however hap- 
pens, such societies, although exceedingly corrupt, are 
not antichristian, in the same sense with national churches, 
as they are described in the epistle to the Thessalonians, 
and in the Revelation. 

Permit me to ask you, Sir, interrupted Dr. Mildmay, 
whether it is not a fact that God has greatly blessed the 
preaching of the gospel of late years in the church of En- 
gland r 

I grant it, Sir, answered Mr. Neville ; and you Will not 
deny that God has also raised up some ministers in the 
church of Rome who have preached the gospel, and whose 
labours have been blessed. God may see fit not to leave 
himself without witnesses in the most corrupt communi- 
ties ; and while they are there, we rejoice that they bear 
so much of a testimony for him as they do : but the pre- 
cepts cf God, and not his providence, are the rule of 
duty. What passed between Jonah and the mariners 
appears to have been blessed to their conviction, if not 
to their conversion : yet Jonah was at that time where 
he ought not to have been. God has commanded, say- 
ing, Come out cf her my people, that ye be not partakers 
cf her sins, and that ye receive not of her plagues. 1 he 
people of God who live in the neglect of this com- 
mand, may do so for w r ant of considering its import, and 
the spiritual nature of Christ's kingdom ; and God may 
suffer this partial blindness to happen to them for wise and 
gvacious ends ; it may be, among other things, for the 



355 



calling; of a greater number out of those very communi- 
ties : yet while they continue to partake of their sins, it 
behooves them to tremble lest in some way they receive of 
their plagues. 

I cannot deny, Sir, said Dr. Mildmay, that there is some 
appearance of truth in what you say. Yet I think that re = 
ligious establishments are and have been useful. I do not, 
however, maintain them to be of divine appointment. For a 
church to be an ally of the state is certainly a defect, which 
necessarily ensues from the interference of government in 
religious matters. At the same time, I cannot but think 
that learned men, set apart from tlie common vocations of 
life, have been and are still serviceable in the defence, il- 
lustration, and propagation of the Christian religion. Now 
the maintenance of such men must be provided for, either 
by the community at large, in which case individuals must 
be compelled to contribute their different quotas, or by vo- 
luntary subscription. An answer to the question which of 
these tw 7 o ways is the most eligible, will I think determine 
whether national churches are a blessing or not. 

I am aware, answered Mr. Neville, that a compulsory 
contribution is preferred by many to one that is voluntary, 
especially for its rendering the clergy independent of the 
people : but this independence is purchased by a much 
greater dependence on their superiors, which constitutes 
no doubt the very reason of the partiality that statesmen 
have commonly felt towards a national church. This de- 
pendence on the great will be certain to lead numbers of 
them to pay court to vicious characters, and to associate 
with them in polite vices. Were Congregational minis- 
ters to act in this manner, they would lose their hearers. 
I do not say that they are not influenced by higher mo- 
tives ; if they are true Christians they certainly will be so: 
but it is an argument in favour of any constitution of things, 
that instead of encouraging conformity to the world, it 
co-operates with the exhortations of Scripture to a holy 
life. 

It has often struck me : said Br, Miklmay, that poor dis- 



ODD 

senting ministers, whose dependence is often upon two or 
three opulent hearers, must be under greater temptations 
to unfaithfulness, than those whose incomes are rendered 
certain by the laws of the country. 

And did it never strike you, answered Mr. Neville, that 
poor curates, whose dependence is often upon their rec- 
tor, or whose hopes of preferment rest upon the favour of 
some irreligious patron, are under equal temptations ? The 
truth, however, is, that we must expect temptations in 
every situation ; and it should be our concern that they 
may never meet us out of the path of duty. If we keep 
that path, we may hope for strength equal to our day ; but 
if we leave it, though we should escape one temptation, 
we shall fall into many others. The church, as you well 
know, originally supported its ministers by voluntary con- 
tributions, and then it was that the Lord blessed it. The 
support of a gospel ministry is enjoined in the New Testa- 
ment ; and a compliance with Christ's injunctions is made 
a test of love to him. A constitution which precludes this 
test, must have an ill influence both on ministers and peo- 
ple ; while that which gives scope to it, has a tendency to 
unite them. I have heard dissenting ministers speak of 
the liberal donations of their people with tears of plea- 
sure ; not merely, as they said, on account of the temporal 
comfort it afforded to them and their families, but be- 
cause fruit thereby abounded to the account of their bre- 
thren. And you, Sir, are not ignorant that persons un- 
friendly to the gospel, as all men naturally are, confound 
tithes and other church rates compulsorily levied upon 
them with Christianity, and are thereby hindered from 
paying a proper attention to it. 

Vv netner the doctor was at a loss for a satisfactory re- 
ply, or whatever was his reason, he concluded with ob- 
serving, that numberless imperfections are attendant upon 
every thing in the present state, and that it becomes each 
of us to act as well as we can in the sphere in which Pro- 
vidence has placed us. 

Mr. William Neville has seen what I have written, and 



357 

has copied it, that he may add it to his sister's collection of 
our letters. He desires his dutiful respects to his dear 
aunt. Accept the same from, 

Dear Madam, your dutiful niece, 

MIRANDA NEVILLE. 



LETTER LXVII. 
From Miss Eusehia Neville to Mrs. Worthington. 

DEAR MADAM, 

I HAVE left France, and do not expect to see England 
any more. I have been cruelly treated, but I am thankful 
it is no worse with me. Since my escape from St. Omer's 
I have been robbed of my clothes and money, and, which I 
exceedingly lament, of our correspondence, which I had 
fairly transcribed. I long to hear how my brother does I 
hope my much loved but misguided parent treats him with 
more tenderness than he has done me. I pray that God 
may renew him in the spirit of his mind, and my sister al- 
so, and Signior Albino. May the unkind treatment L have 
received from them never be placed to their account. I 
think I have a prospect of supporting myself by my indus- 
try. God has been very kind to me. When I can inform 
Mrs. Worthington how to direct a letter to me I intend to 
write to her again. My love to Miss Barnwell, to my dear 
brother, &c. I have had but a minute or two to write in, 
and I am informed that unless I finish my letter this mo- 
ment I cannot send it. Most affectionately yours, 

EUSEBIA NEVILLE, 



LETTER LXVIIL 

From Mrs. Worthington to Mr. Charles Clifford. 

DEAR SIR, 

I RECEIVED the enclosed letter this morning by the 
penny-post. It is impossible to describe the surprise and 



358 

- 

perturbation into which it threw me. I had scarcely pow- 
er to open it. Who could have expected that my dear Eu= 
sebia was in the land of the living ! What joyful news will 
it be to her father ! I was afraid to send it to him, and I 
therefore send it in this cover to you. You, Sir, can open 
it to him by degrees, as you perceive he is able to bear it. 
What poor weak creatures we are ! Good news or bad 
alike distress us. Well, my dear Sir, it is our God who 
preserves us when we go down to the sea in ships, and do 
business in great waters. But I cannot learn from her let- 
ter whether she was robbed by sea or land. How strange 
that she has not mentioned where she was when she wrote ! 
She does not expect, she says, to see England again. I 
hope she has not been taken by an Algerine corsair. I 
think that cannot be the case ; for she says that God has 
been very kind to her, and that she has a prospect of sup- 
porting herself by her industry. She had but a minute or 
two to write in. It is surprising that the person who re- 
ceived the letter was so unkind as not to stay four or five 
minutes. It is evident that she would have said more if 
she had had time. It is a mystery which time only can un- 
ravel. She intends to write again, and to inform us how 
to direct to her. 

You, Sir, I understand, are to dine with Mr. Neville 
to-morrow. I have been thinking that you will not receive 
this letter before dinner. I wish you could have it soon 
enough to take it with you. I have thought what to do. 
Mr. Neville receives his letters about six o'clock in the af- 
ternoon, I will get my servant to direct it to you at 
Thornton Abbey, as i doubt not you will be there. 

You will please to tell my friends how much I rejoice 
with them. Assure them that I will not delay a moment 
to communicate any further intelligence. We must wait 
patiently till it arrive. I wish you every happiness, and am. 
Dear Sir, your sincere friend, 

MARY WORTHINGTON. 



P, S. It will be some hours before the post goes out I 



359 

will employ part of the time in writing a few thoughts, as 
you desired, upon the truth of the Scriptures. 

Notwithstanding the Old and New Testaments were 

j written by so many persons, and at such distant periods, 

, the writers appear to have been all influenced by the same 
spirit. They represent God as a holy and righteous Be- 
ing infinitely opposite to sin and sinners. The servants of 
God too in every age and nation, under the Old Testament 
dispensation and the New, have drunk into the same spirit. 
In ihe writings and lives of none of the heathens is piety 
discoverable like that which appeared in the patriarchs, in 
Moses, Aaron, Joshua, Ruth and Boaz, and even in Eli, 

I notwithstanding all his imperfections. Hannah, also, and 
Samuel, David* and the other writers of the Psalms, and 
likewise the prophets, were filled with love to the true 
God; a God so excellent, that whenever the inspired wri- 
ters speak of his character or of his works, their language 
is ennobled ; and by the conveyance of grand ideas in sim- 
ple and plain words, a perfection of sublimity is produced, 
which causes their writings as much to exceed all others 

i as the glimmering light of a glow-worm is outshone by the 
lustre of the sun. The gods of the nations are indeed 
idols ; and the writers and writings that treat of them are 
like unto them, when compared with those that describe 
the Creator of the heavens and of the earth. 

In the writers of the New Testament we find a continu- 
ation of the same spirit which dwelt in the writers of the 
Old. We find the same elevated views of the Deity, the 
same love to him and the same fear to offend him : and a 
divine morality, whereof the love of God is the foundation, 
pervades both the sacred volumes. The writers of the 
New Testament, it is true, like those of the Old, had their 
different natural excellences, which are visible in their 
writings : but in their love to God and to the souls of men, 
in their fortitude, self-denial, charity, humility and heaven- 
ly-mindedness, it is difficult to say which of them excelled 
the rest. Paul is conspicuous for strength of reasoning? 
diligence, and resolution. Luke shines as a faithful narra- 



360 



tor, and as a man of unaffected modesty ; for the last of 
which excellences no other proof is necessary than his 
never mentioning himself in the Acts of the Apostles, 
though it is evident he was the companion of Paul, and 
had a principal hand in the things he related. Peter has 
written but little ; but that little is like apples of gold in 
pictures of silver. The gospel, the epistles, and the Re- 
velation of John, as they are manifestly the works of the 
same writer, so they breathe the same spirit of love to 
God, and of good will to men. The writings of each of 
the sacred penmen bear internal and inimitable marks of 
their genuineness, which the spurious writings pretending 
to be the works of the apostles evidently want. 

Frequently, through the divine influence, the excel- 
lence of the sacred writings, and the holiness of their au- 
thors, produce a belief of the truth of our most holy reli- 
gion in unlearned men, who are unable to comprehend 
acute reasoning and elaborate investigation. Ask a poor 
illiterate Christian upon what evidence he believes his Bi^ 
ble, and he will probably tell you that he feels it to be true. 
In this answer there is no enthusiasm. His meaning is, 
that the divine truths are worthy of the God who revealed 
them ; that they do his heart good like a cordial ; and that 
he is filled with love and gratitude for the mercies therein 
revealed, and with a longing desire to be conformed to the 
divine precepts, which he knows to be just and good. 

The moral excellence of the sacred writings, however, 
can impress very forcibly none but those who are born of 
God, and who have received the same spirit with the wri- 
ters of them. But there is another proof of their divine 
orginal which is calculated for general use, namely, the ful- 
filment of prophecy. 

Prophecy delineates the dispensations of God towards 
the Jews in all ages; the Babylonish captivity ; the cala- 
mities suffered by the nations which surrounded the tend 
of Canaan ; the deliverance by Cyrus ; the persecutions 
under Antiochus Epiphanes ; the history of the Assyrian, 
Persian, Macedonian, and Reman monarchies; a minute 



361 



history of Alexander's successors ; the rise, reign, and 
fall of antichrist ; and a very great variety of other events, 
relating both to nations and to individuals. 

The prophecies which relate to the Messiah, I cannot 
in a short letter enumerate. I may, however, say, that he 
-was spoken of as a potent prince, as a mighty deliverer, 
and yet as a great sufferer. The two first parts of this 
character, according to the literal sense, were quite agree- 
able to the inclination of the Jews in general : and even 
the apostles were not free from this prejudice till some 
time after the resurrection of our Lord. An impostor 
would have taken advantage of this prejudice, as all im- 
postors pretending to be the Messiah have done. But the 
general tendency of our Lord's discourses on this subject 
was to show his followers, that he came for nobler purpo- 
ses than to make his countrymen a great and flourishing 
nation ; that his mission was intended to deliver them from 
the dominion of Satan, and to make them possessors of an 
everlasting kingdom ; and that, instead of making them 
greater than they were in this world, it w r as intended to 
expose them to reproach, and sufferings of every kind. 
When many of his followers came to understand that their 
condition was not to be bettered in the present life, they 
walked no more with him. The Jews to this day expect 
a Messiah exactly similar to what their ancestors expect- 
ed. But their expectation is vain ; for a Messiah is alrea- 
dy come, whose character is perfectly correspondent with 
the prophecies on which they found their hopes. 

Jesus, in his life, his sufferings, and his death, is mi- 
nutely described by the Jewish Scriptures. An artful per- 
son might have contrived to fulfil these prophecies in what 
related to his own conduct ; but to contrive what was to be 
done to him by others, even to the manner of their putting 
him to death, must be acknowledged to be an art which 
few are equal to, or, if they were, would choose to prac- 
tise, ail impostors being disposed to make the most of their- 
deceptions in the present world. 

i H 



362 

1 have filled my paper, and must therefore bid you and 
all mv friends adieu. 



LETTER LXIX. 

From Mr. Charles Clifford to Mrs. Wofikington. 

DEAR MADAM, 

HAT a treasure did your letter contain ! I little 
thought I should any more see the writing of that dear 
young lady. It is impossible to describe the surprise and 
joy which were manifested, and even the tears which were 
shed on this occasion, especially by the good Mr. Neville, 
Indeed the joy was more than we could well bear. 

When your letter was brought, we were all at tea. I 
looked at the direction, and perceived that it came from 
London, and was directed for me at Mr. Neville's. I was 
astonished, not being able to conceive who in London could 
know that I was there ; and my astonishment was increas- 
ed by my not knowing the hand. Finding in it a letter di- 
rected to you, I opened it, and, looking at the signature, 
beheld Eusebia Neville. I had so much command over 
myself as immediately to rise and go out. I was reading 
in another room both the letters, to my great astonishment 
and joy, when a servant was sent by the company to remind 
me that they waited for me. 

I was at a loss how to break the affair to Mr. Neville, 
since a sudden excess of joy has often proved as fatal as 
immoderate sorrow. I endeavoured, therefore, when I 
went in, to compose myself as much as possible. My 
father, however, having perceived when I went out, that 
I was greatly agitated, cried out upon my entering the 
room, Charles, what is the matter r I am certain this let- 
ter lias greatly discomposed your mind. 

Sir, said I, this letter contains some very good, and 
some very bad news. 

Who, said he, could know that you were to be here to- 
day ? This is a very mysterious affair. 



363 



I replied, that by some means or other it had been 
known, or I should not have received a letter here. 

Mr. Neville and all the company were silent, expecting 
I suppose to hear something very interesting. Not daring 
to gratify their curiosity, I introduced a new subject of 
conversation, in which while the company were engaged, I 
privately beckoned Mr. William Neville to follow me out. 

My friend, said I, this letter contains something very 
important respecting your family. This introduction (as 
he afterwards told me) alarmed him very much, and he 
knew not what to think. Showing him the back of the let- 
ter directed to you, I asked him whether he knew the wri- 
ting. My sister ! cried he ; it is my dear sister's. I did 
not give him the letter immediately, but desired him to be 
calm. I then informed him that I had some hopes that his 
Eusebia was alive, but that I knew not even in what coun- 
try she was. 

I had not been so secret as to elude Mrs. Neville's ob- 
servation. She was alarmed, and came to us. Pray, Mr. 
Clifford, said she, what is the matter ? I know your letter 
contains some intelligence in which we are greatly inter- 
ested. Mr. Neville replied, My sister, we have reason to 
believe is alive ; but we know not where she is : all we 
know is, that she is neither in England nor in France. 

Returning to our friends, we found them about to take a 
walk in the wilderness, whither we accompanied them. I 
kept near Mr. Neville, and asked him whether he should 
not have put off his mourning at his son's wedding. I said 
I wore mine, because I had not entertained the most dis- 
tant apprehension of that happy event. 

My dear Mr. Clifford, answered he, I must say as Jacob 
did concerning his son, I will go down into the grave unto 
her mourning. 

It w r as undoubtedly, Sir, replied I, the intention of Jacob 
to do so ; but'I cannot applaud him for it, since it becomes 
every creature to submit to the divine will. Yet he did 
not go to the grave mourning, as he said he would. And 
so with regard to your child, it is possible she may yet be 



364 



alive There is no certainty of her death: it has been 
probable only at present. 

& Sir j cried he, very much affected, it is but too certain. 

And so, said I, J< cob thought concerning his beloved 
Joseph. The probability too in his case was greater than 
in yours. His son's coat was brought to him torn and 
bloody, and without it's owner : whereas, in your case, it is 
Only related that a vessel was wrecked, that a woman who 
was in it was drowned, and that a bundle belonging to your 
daughter was saved. But can it be certainly known that 
one woman only was in the ship, and that she was your 
daughter ? Or because her clothes were lost, that there- 
fore she perished ? Had I reasoned thus, I should not have 
visited all the towns upon the English and French coasts. 
It is true I did not find her : yet I do not despair of seeing 
her again. 

Pray, Sir, exclaimed he, will you answer me one ques- 
tion ? Do you know where she is ? Have you not heard 
something about her ? 

Indeed, Sir, replied I, I do not know where she is ; but 
I do not despair of her being alive. The ietter which came 
when we were at tea, informs me that the woman who was 
drowned was not your daughter. 

0 my dear Sir, cried he, laying hold of one of my hands 
with both his, I beseech you to put me out of this cruel 
suspense. Tell me what it is you have learned. 

The good man trembled from head to foot. I was there- 
fore afraid to proceed, and yet had gone too far to retreat. 
It is very little, Sir, said I, that I know ; and even that little 
I was afraid to inform you of. You must wait with pa- 
tience. A few posts, I hope, will bring us further intel- 
ligence. 

1 am able, said he, to bear any thing you have to tell me. 
Say therefore whether she is aiive. 

I believe she is, answered I, but cannot certainly tell. 
It is not yet known what country she is in ; but this I know, 
that she was not drowned. 

O my child, my child, exclaimed he ; I thank my good 
and gracious God : I shall see my child again before I die. 



365 



lie desired rne to show him the letter I had received. I 
told him I would gladly do it when we were in the house. 
In the meantime I desired him to compose himself. 

What a happy day, cried he, is this wedding day of my 
son ! Two children are added to my family in one day. 

My dear Sir, said I, if God in great mercy restore her 
to you, and if I should have the happiness of possessing 
an interest in her affection, I hope I shall meet with no 
impediment. .... 

You are worthy of her, interrupted he ; I should prefer 
you to the greatest prince in Europe. 

This afforded me great pleasure. I returned Mr. Ne- 
ville the most sincere thanks, and told him truly, that I 
should prefer a union with his daughter to the possession 
of an empire. 

By this time we had reached the house. Being seated, 
I gave him his daughter's letter. And written, cried he, 
in a transport of joy, with her own hand. Having read it, 
he put it into his bosom. O Mr. Clifford, cried he, I have 
been a cruel parent. I do not deserve such a child. But 
my heavenly Father has in every period of my life dealt 
with me, not according to my sins, but according to his 
abundant mercy in Christ Jesus. 

All the company in the wilderness, as soon as they heard 
the joyful tidings, came, and congratulated Mr. Neville 
and each other on this unexpected resurrection as it were 
from the dead. 

News in a country village flies with great rapidity. It was 
not half an hour before the inhabitants gave a proof of 
their good will to Mr. Neville's family, by ringing the 
bells. On the green the boys having collected some fag- 
gots, made a bonfire ; and in the evening every house in 
the village was illuminated ; even the smallest cottage was 
decorated with three or four candles set in pieces of clay. 
I confess that in my eye, these humble attempts of the 
poor to show their good will to a family which has always 
been attentive to their interest, appeared more magnificent 
"than the splendid illuminations I have seen in London. 

2 H 2 



366 



The latter proceeded from abundance : the former were a 
sacrifice to gratitude offered by penury. 

It being evident that our friend was neither in England 
nor in France, many conjectures were formed where she 
could be. Dr. Mildmay thought she was in the Austrian 
Netherlands, that country being so near to St. Omer's, It 
was my opinion that she was gone to Switzerland. Signior 
Albino thought it more probable that she was in Italy Mr. 
Barnwell thought she was gone to Ireland. He said that 
she would be coolly looked upon in a foreign country with- 
out clothes or money ; but that if she were in Ireland, 
where she might assist in a boarding-school, or be employ- 
ed as a governess, it was like being in England. However, 
we all agreed that it was impossible to know which con- 
jecture was right, or whether any, till another letter should 
arrive. 

I did not sleep a minute all night. My mind followed 
her to every country in Europe, and even to America and 
ihe West-Indies : but such thoughts are vain and unprofit- 
able. 

Ought I to confess to you, Madam, that I am much more 
uneasy than I was when I thought she was dead ? The joy 
I first experienced was suddenly damped by the conside- 
ration, that she will inevitably have given her hand to 
some happy lover before I shall again see her, or at least 
that she will be so far engaged, as not to be able to recede 
with honour. At all events she is lost to me for ever, or 
at least till our kindred spirits shall meet where they nei- 
ther marry nor are given in marriage. These are the 
thoughts which disquiet me. On the other hand I console 
myself by reflecting, that whatever shall be the event, 
it v/as first planned, and is now executing by infinite wis- 
dom, and that on the whole it will be for my good. These 
thoughts calm my mind. I consider that every Christian 
has a cross to bear after his Lord, and a fiery trial to be 
tried with ; and that if it be the divine will that this should 
be my trial, I ought to submit. 

In a strange country — discarded by her parent— without 



367 



resources — without a protector — if honourable proposals 
should be made to her (and what man is there who would 
not be proud to call her his ?) marriage is what she can- 
not avoid. I must therefore endeavour to forget her, 
since it is certain I shall never see her but to increase my 
grief. 

1 thank you, Madam, for your remarks on the truth of 
divine revelation. I hope they will be blessed to my con- 
firmation in the faith. About a week past my father and I 
drank tea at Mr Neville's. That good man took great 
pains to convince him of the truth of the Mosaic history* 
and I hope with some good effect. I have had a great deal 
of conversation with him on the subject, I have also shown 
him your letter, and lent him your correspondence with 
my dear Eusebia and Mrs. Neville. He is now exceed- 
ingly thoughtful, is much in his closet, and does not as 
formerly make a jest of religion. Like myself, he has had 
but little pleasure in his infidelity. It is a desperate game, 
at which every thing may be lost, but nothing gained. 

The moment you receive any further intelligence, you 
n ill be so obliging as to favour me with a line. 

I am, dear Madam, your much obliged, 
And most obedient servant, 

CHARLES CLIFFORD 

LETTER LXX, 

From Mrs, JVorihington to Mr. ^Seville* 

BEAR SIH, 

CONGRATULATE you and ail my dear friends at 
Thornton Abbey respecting your dear child. ] hope soon 
to have the pleasure of knowing where she is, and of in- 
forming her of the great and happy change that has taken 
place in your family, which tidings will be as joyful to her 
as the news of her being alive can be to us. 

We rejoice that she is in the land of the living. It h 



3(58 



right to do so ; for life is undoubtedly a great blessing. 
We ought not, however, to mourn immoderately for our 
friends who die in the Lord ; for though life is a blessing, 
yet to depart, and to be with Christ, is far better. 

The union between your worthy son and my dear niece 
gives me great pleasure. I hope and believe she will be a 
wife proper for him. She is frugal and industrious, and 
dislikes ostentatious pomp and expensive pleasures. She is 
not fond of company, yet will 1 doubt not endeavour to ren- 
der every one happy whom Mr. Neville shall honour with 
his friendship, or invite to his table. 

It depends not a little upon a wife, whether the fear and 
worship of God shall be kept up in a family. If through 
different cares the time for family worship should be ex- 
ceeded, it is her duty kindly to call off her husband from 
the affairs of the w r orld to the worship of God. 

Flavia is an industrious woman, and would be thought 
religious. But when her husband reminds her that it is 
time for the family to be called together, it is generally 
too soon, or too late, or she is engaged, so that though she 
does not expressly refuse, yet she submits with so ill a 
grace, that it is well if the duty be not at length totally ne- 
glected. 

The case of Dr. Mil dm ay proves, that no consideration 
should induce a Christian to marry an unbeliever. Wit, 
beauty, riches, or all of them united, are but a poor com- 
pensation for the want of divine wisdom. Mrs. Mildmay 
was rich, young, gay, and sensible. These qualifications 
were too highly prized. Dr. Mildmay should have sought 
for a woman who was meek and frugal ; who loved God ; 
and who loved him for the sake of the truth which he 
preached. These would have been endowments of sub- 
stantial value. Concerts, dancing, cards, ungodly associ- 
ates, unprofitable entertainments, and vain discourse, are 
poor accompaniments to preaching the gospel. The love 
of these things, and a life of faith on the Son of God, are 
seldom found under the same roof, and never in the same 
person. 



369 



If Dr. Mildmay had been the pastor of a dissenting con- 
gregation., and had had all his present temptations to asso- 
ciate with carnal companions, and to Jive and act like the 
men of the world, he could not huve done it. He would 
have received such reproofs from some at least of the 
members of the church, as would have rendered him very 
uncomfortable ; and if he hud persisted, either he would 
have been dismissed from the pastoral office, or his pious 
hearers would have forsaken his ministry. But in the 
church of England, irreligious ministers are so frequently 
imposed upon the people, that they congratulate them- 
selves if their pastor possesses any good properties. This 
is a necessary consequence of the dependence of the 
ehurciff upon the state. 

It affords me pleasure that something like a reconcilia- 
tion has taken place between my brother-in-law and his 
daughter. I am no friend to contention in any form. 

Mr. Charles Clifford has deserved well of your family. 
When we have the happiness to see your daughter, I hope 
he will meet with that esteem he merits. If, Sir, you had 
utterly discarded her, that would have been no impedi- 
ment to his union with her. He therefore has some claim 
to her regard, independently of his accomplishments, of 
his fortune, and of his being a Christian. 

I expect every hour to hear from her. I think she can 
#e at no great distance. 

Wishing you and all my kind friends a pleasant journey > 
and above all the divine favour, 

I am, dear Sir, your sincere friend, 

And very humble servant, 

MARY WORTHINGTON, 

LETTER LXXI. 

From Mr. Charles Clifford to Mrs. Worthington. 

DEAR MADAM, 

I INTEND, with the divine permission, to accompany 
Mr. Neville and his family to London. I promise myself 



3/0 



much happiness in the company of such valuable friends. 
The conversation of the servants of God is a source of 
much consolation. Under the Old Testament dispensa- 
tion they who feared the Lord spake often one to another. 

I mentioned to M William Neville yesterday at Mr. 
Barnwell's, where we dined, the hopes I entertained of his 
sister's writing again to you in a very little time. He told 
me that his father had received a letter from you, and that 
I had a zealous advocate in Mrs. Worthington. I ought to 
thank, you, M idam, and all my kind friends, for your fa- 
vourable opinion of me. I certainly behold an infinite ex- 
cellency in the gospel method of salvation by Jesus Christ, 
and cannot but perceive that the spirit of all the inspired 
writers is similar, and their views of the divine Bemg as a 
just, a holy, and a merciful God, the same. I am also con- 
vinced that the servants of God under both dispensations, 
have had the same confidence in the divine mercy, and the 
same spirit. These things abundantly prove to me the 
truth of divine revelation. Yet I am not without my fears, 
that I should one time or another imitate those disciples 
©f Christ who went away and walked no more with him. I 
earnestly pray that my God and Father will never suffer 
this to be the case. 

You will expect, Madam, to hear what conversation, 
there was yesterday at Mr, Barnwell's. As far as my me- 
mory shall enable me, I will endeavour to relate the most 
interesting part. 

There were present Mr. Neville and his family, Dr. 
Mildmay, Mr. Law, my father, and myself. After dinner, 
the principal speakers were Dr. MUdmay, Mr. Neville, 
and my father. 

The doctor began the debate with observing, that he had 
been considering what Mr. Neville had advanced in behalf 
of dissenting congregations, and against religious establish- 
ments, and that he was very far from being convinced that 
the latter were not both as useful and as scriptural as inde- 
pendent churches. The fact is, said he, the precise mode 
of church government is no where ascertained and appoint'* 



371 



ed in the New Testament : it is therefore left to the dis- 
cretion of Christians to frame such constitutions as shall 
best comport with their local circumstances. When a 
whole nation became Christian, it was the duty of the chief 
magistrate, if he thought Christianity likely to promote 
good government and good morals, to provide for the sup- 
port of it : and if it was divided into sects, to give the pre- 
ference to that sect which was the most numerous, be- 
cause the few ought always to submit to the many. If the 
majority of the people of England were Independents, the 
religion of that sect ought to be the established religion. 

It is impossible tnat it should be so, replied Mr. Neville, 
The very term, Independents, denotes that, as Christians, 
they do not acknowledge any human authority, nor call 
any man master on earth. But do you think, Sir, that if the 
religion of the Independents were established, the Episco- 
palians, after having paid their own ministers by voluntary 
subscription, would with a good grace contribute toward the 
maintenance of the Independent ministers ? 

Ought not the determination of the majority to be sub- 
mitted to ? cried Dr. Mildmay. 

Be it so, replied Mr. Neville, yet the determination of 
the majority is not always just ; and injustice will operate 
in time to the ruin of empires, as well as of individuals. 
A private trader cannot expect long to thrive, but by an 
upright conduct, and uniform justice in his dealings : and 
what is true concerning one or two or twenty men, will be 
also true concerning twenty millions. 

Sir, said Dr. Mildmay, you are mistaken if you imagine 
me to be an enemy, either to the Nonconformists or to jus- 
tice. As I have a sincere love to my country, and also a 
considerable interest in its welfare, it is my desire that 
justice should be done to every member of the communi- 
ty, since the throne can only be established by right- 
eousness. Nevertheless, Sir, I am a friend to religious 
establishments. A minister whose subsistence depends 
upon collecting and pleasing a crowd, and who lives in 
constant bondage to tyrannical and insolent directors, al- 



372 



though a man of worth and ability, is but a genteel beg- 
gar. Many dissenting preachers, with a view of increas- 
ing their subscription, use a vehement oratory, and even 
adapt their doctrines to the pleasure of a capricious mul- 
titude. 

I think, replied Mr. Neville, I answered this objection 
before ; but since you repeat it, I again say, that the post 
of duty is the post of honour, by whatever temptations it 
may be surrounded. The greater the temptations of dis- 
senting ministers, the greater is their glory in overcoming 
them. But the picture you have drawn, is the picture of 
fancy, and not of truth. Show me, Sir, the dissenting mi= 
nisters you speak of, who live in bondage to tyrannical di- 
rectors, and who, to raise their subscriptions, conform their 
doctrines to the pleasure of the multitude. I believe that 
the bulk of them are esteemed and revered by their hear- 
ers. Voluntary subscriptions are not a sufficient induce- 
ment to men of ability, possessing an ambitious disposi- 
tion, to undertake the pastoral office. Dissenting minis- 
ters are in general animated by the love of God, and of the 
souls of men. This stamps a dignity on their persons^ 
and insures to them a respect from their hearers, of which 
those ministers are totally destitute, who, disregarding 
their people, and disregarded by them, cringe at the le- 
vees,, and flatter the vices of the great. If some ministers 
of a warm temper, and of a lively imagination, use too ve- 
hement an oratory, yet proceeding from men of worth, it 
is infinitely preferred by their hearers to the cooler delive- 
ry of men who have not religion at heart. 

Truly, Sir, said the doctor, I cannot view things in the 
same light that you do. 

Interest, Sir, cried my father, has blinded millions. You, 
are upon a bad plan in the church of England, unless the 
religion of Jesus Christ be considered as an invention to 
aggrandize the clergy. But if the aim of the clergy be to 
gain men over to true religion, tithes form a considerable 
obstacle ; for while they are praying and preaching, the 
farmers are thinking about their grain, their wool, their 



373 



lambs, pigs, milk, eggs, apples and the like, the tenth part 
of which is taken from them, so much against their incli- 
nation. 

I acknowledge, Sir, replied Dr. Mildmay, that there is 
too much reason for these remarks. But with regard to 
myself, I can appeal to my neighbour Mr. Neville, that I 
take none of these tithes in kind. For the small tithes I 
accept a compensation much below their value ; and every 
farmer rents of me, I believe to his satisfaction, the great 
tithes belonging to his farm. More than this I cannot do. 
However, I deplore the mode of paying the clergy of the 
establishment by tithes, as much, Mr. Clifford, as you or 
any person can do, because it renders them in general ob- 
jects of dislike to their hearers, whom it also makes inat- 
tentive to the gospel which they preach. But the impru- 
dence of the clergy in exacting their dues with rigour, 
merits a part of the blame. In consequence of my lenity 
in this respect, my parishioners attend upon my ministry, 
not only with reverence, but, if I may credit them, with 
thankfulness. 

I believe, Sir, said my father, you endeavour to give as 
little offence to your parishioners as possible : but how few 
instances have we of that kind ! A few exceptions plead 
not in favour of a general evil. — To this Dr. Mildmay 
made no reply. 

Anxiously expecting to hear that you have received a 
letter from my dear Eusebia, I continue, 

Dear Madam, your most obedient, 
And faithful servant, 

CHARLES CLIFFORD. 



LETTER LXXII. 

From Miss Eusebia Neville to Mrs, Wcrthington, 

DEAR MADAM, 

In my last letter I informed you of my intention to es- 
cape from St. Omer's. 

2 I 



374 



During my short residence in that city, I had contracted 
an acquaintance with a Miss Dangerfield, whose father had 
left London to avoid his creditors. She told me that his 
failure was owing to numerous losses which he had sustain- 
ed; and that he would soon return, his creditors having 
agreed to take a small composition. I thought this would 
afford me a happy opportunity of returning to England, 
and of visiting you till some place could be found in which 
I might acquire a livelihood by my industry. I therefore 
told Mr. Dangerfield, that I would pay all the expenses, if 
he and his daughter would immediately accompany me to 
England. To this he readily agreed. 

The afternoon before my escape, he told me that, at the 
house of a person who lets N out carriages, he had met 
with a gentleman who wanted a conveyance to Lisle for a 
lady and her daughter, the next morning as early as the 
gates should be opened ; and that he and the gentle- 
man had hired a coach with three horses. He added that 
the coach would hold only four persons, but that he would 
ride on the outside. 

This information gave me pleasure, especially as the la- 
dy, he said, was born in London, though she now resided 
in France : I also thought that by going to Lisle I should 
elude pursuit. 

I slept but little that night. My brother was ignorant of 
my intention to escape. Rising early in the morning, I 
packed up my linen and other valuable things in as small 
a compass as possible, and putting thern under my cloak 
(to avoid the suspicion of the servants) set off for Danger- 
field's lodgings ; but he and his daughter were waiting for 
me at a little distance. 

We went to the place where we were to take coach. In 
a short time the lady and her daughter arrived who were 
to accompany us to Lisle. She was of the middle size, 
and had glossy black hair, and fine arched eyebrows of the 
same colour. Her features were regular, but her com- 
plexion pale ; and an habitual smile, and a sweetness of 
disposition visible in her countenance, rendered her, if not 



375 

what is termed handsome, yet very pretty and agreeable, 
which is much preferable. She was something more than 
thirty years of age ; and her daughter, a very amiable 
young lady, was upwards of thirteen. As I never could 
ride backwards in a carriage without being sick, she in- 
sisted that I should ride forwards with her, and that her 
daughter should sit with Miss DangerSeld. This little 
act of kindness, together with her being my countrywoman, 
soon made us acquainted. She told me that both she and 
her husband were born in London ; that they were of the 
Hebrew nation ; and that he had resided more than twen- 
ty years at Amsterdam, where he was extensively engaged 
in the mercantile profession. 

In the course of my conversation with this lady, I learn- 
-ed that she and her husband are Christians ; that their 
conversion was brought about through the instrumentality 
of an excellent friend of theirs, a member of an English 
Congregational church at Amsterdam ; and that they 
are now members of the same church. After congratu- 
lating Mrs. Levi (for that was the name of the lady) with 
respect to this happy event, I gave her a particular account 
of my sufferings, and of my flight from a most tender pa- 
rent, whose only fault that I knew of was his attachment to 
a religion, called indeed Christianity, but not to be found 
in the sacred volume, except in the prophecies concerning 
the corruptions of our religion which were to take place 
in the world. 

This amiable lady felt for my distress, and was obliged 
to wipe from her cheeks the tears which were occasioned 
by the recital of my calamities. My dear young lady, 
cried she, I cannot but sympathize with you. My friends 
were as much irritated against me on account of my be- 
coming a Christian, as yours against you on account of 
your becoming a protestant. 

About nine in the morning we arrived at Lilleres, a 
small town about fifteen miles from St. O mer's, and stop- 
ped at the Golden Goose. Our eoachman told us that he 
should stay about an hour, as he wanted something to be 



376 



done to one of the wheels. After breakfast Mrs. Levi 
and I proposed to take a walk round the town, and asked 
Mr. Dangerfield and his daughter to accompany us. He 
replied, that he had an acquaintance whom he wished to 
see ; and the daughter said, that it would be better for 
her to stay and take care of my bundle and the other par- 
cels, which I thought to be kind and prudent. After we 
had walked about half an hour we returned. When I in- 
quired for the young woman whom I had left with my 
parcel, they said that they thought she had gone with 
me, as they had not seen her since I left the inn : yet no 
one could remember her going out. It immediately oc- 
curred to me that I was robbed of my clothes and money ; for 
Dangerfield having told me that it would be prudent to take 
nothing in my pocket but a little silver, lest we should be 
robbed, I had followed his advice. The thought of the 
situation I was in, without clothes, without money, with- 
out friends, and in a foreign country, so overcame me, that 
I sunk back in my chair, and was insensible, till I opened 
my eyes, and saw several persons about me, rubbing me, 
and holding spirits of hartshorn to my nose. I then per- 
ceived that I had swooned away ; and I was truly sorry 
that I was come back to a world so checkered with misery. 
The good Mrs. Levi, who saw the cause of my distress, 
encouraged a pursuit of the thieves, by offering five louis 
d'ors to any person who should overtake and bring them 
back. Several persons went different ways in pursuit, 
but returned without success, to whom she made hand- 
some presents. But her kindness to me is far beyond my 
ability to describe : my own parent when I was the object 
of his esteem, could not have behaved with greater ten- 
derness. 

We were obliged to get into the coach, having staid an 
hour extraordinary. During our journey to Lisle, she 
continually assured me that Mr. Levi would take a plea- 
sure in rendering me every service in his power. At the 
same time she insisted upon my receiving ten louis d'ors 



0 m ~f 

01 i 

as an immediate present. — Oh, my dear friend, how man;? 
ways our merciful father has to support his people 1 He 
will never leave them nor forsake them ; and as their day 
is so shall their strength be. 

About eight o'clock in the evening we arrived at the 
Hotel de Bourbon at Lisle, where we found Mr. Levi just 
come from Paris. The appearance of this gentleman 
pleased me. He had an open countenance, and a habit in- 
clining to corpulency ; he was of the middle size, and about 
fifty years of age. He was very complaisant to his lady and 
to me also, though a stranger : and indeed she had observed 
to me, that their minds were so similar, that time had ad- 
ded the most cordial friendship to the tenderest affec- 
tion. 

Mrs. Levi withdrew with her husband for a few mi- 
nutes, during which time she appears to have given him an 
account of my situation, and to have recommended me to 
Lis patronage. For on their return he said, My dear Miss 
Neville, do not in the least regard what has befallen you. 
Kest assured that in Mrs. Levi and myself you will find 
protectors and friends. 

I was so overcome with the gratitude I felt towards my 
benefactors, and with a sense of the divine goodness in 
casting me in their way, that I had not power to make a re- 
ply, but burst into a flood of tears which I could not for 
some time restrain. When they had subsided, I fell on 
my knees, and cried out, I bless the almighty Author of 
my being, the kind Parent of the universe : and I thank 
you, my kind friends, for your goodness and compassion to 
a stranger. May our heavenly Father grant you an ever- 
lasting reward. 

There is no pleasure, replied Mr. Levi, superior to that 
of alleviating the distresses of the servants of God. Nay, 
there is even a satisfaction in doing good to the wicked, as 
it is instructing those by our actions who will not attend to 
the divine precepts. — Mrs. Levi and her daughter, like- 
wise, said many kind things. 

2 I 2 



378 



I retired to rest early, and, rising betimes, wrote this 
long letter before breakfast. 

I am, dear Madam, with great esteem, 
Your affectionate friend, 

EUSEBIA NEVILLE. 



jt\S life is a continued series of changes from happiness 
to misery, and from misery to happiness, much unavailing 
anxiety might be avoided, were w r e to do our duty in our 
present circumstances, and to leave future events to Him 
who clotheth the lilies of the field, and who does not disre- 
gard a falling sparrow. 

I have related the joy I felt at my escape from St. 
Omer's ; the trouble I was in at being robbed; and the 
change of the scene from misery to happiness, in conse- 
quence of the uncommon regard shown to me by Mr. Le- 
vi and his family. After I was in bed, I was again render- 
ed unhappy by considering the disagreeable situation my 
dear brother will be in wfteri my father shall have been ap- 
prised of his having left the church of Rome. Your niece 
came next into my mind, together with the brutal treat- 
ment of her unfeeling parent. Nor did I forget my dear 
father, my sister, and father Albino. I felt no resentment 
on account of their cruel treatment of me, but earnestly 
prayed that God would show them the evil of what they 
had done, and bring them to true repentance. I then 
thought with ^anxious concern about the place I should go 
to, and the means I should use for my future subsistence. 
But how much better it would have been to have left these 
things entirely to Him who worketh all things according to 
the counsel of his own will. By taking thought, I could 
not add one cubit to my stature. 

Just as I had finished my former letter, Miss Levi came 
to my room. She is an affectionate young lady. There is 



LETTER LXXIII. 



From Miss Eusebia Neville to Mrs. Worthingto?i, 



DEAR MADAM, 




379 



50 much innocence and cheerfulness in her behaviour, that 
it is impossible not to love her. 

In the room where we had supped the preceding even- 
ing I found Mr. and Mrs. Levi. I do not say that my re- 
ception was kind ; it was more than is commonly under- 
stood by that term ; I was received with the greatest ten- 
derness. At breakfast Mr. Levi said that we were all in- 
vited to dine at Mr. Asher's, a relation of his who lives on 
the opposite side of the square. 

Mr. Levi, said Mr. Asher after dinner, I never was 
more surprised than when I heard thai you haa ieit the re- 
ligon of our ancestors, and embraced a religion by the pro- 
fessors of which so many of our nation ha re been mur- 
dered. 

Mr. Levi. Would it be right, Sir, to judge of the truths 
delivered to Moses, by the rebellious behaviour of our 
forefathers in the wilderness; by their worshipping the 
host of heaven ; and by their sucrincing their ^children to 
Moloch ? Or ought we not rather to judge of them by the 
miracles which Moses and the other prophets were en- 
abled to perform ; by the historical account of their divine 
origin ; and by the holy lives of thousands who adhered to 
the Lord in the worst of times ? Even now it would be 
unfair to judge of the writings of Moses and the prophets 
by the lives of many, who yet would be offended if we were 
to question their being the disciples of Moses. 

Mr. Asher. You seem to acknowledge our religion to 
be the true religion ; how is it then that you have abandon- 
ed it ? 

Mr. Levi. I have not abandoned it. I have now many 
evidences of its divine origin which J was formerly unac- 
quainted with. I can truly say that I neither understood, 
nor fully believed the writings of Moses and the prophets 
till I became a Christian. 

Mr. Asher. This is very wonderful. You did not be- 
lieve our scriptures, till you believed in a plurality of Gods. 

Mr. Levi. I believe in only one God ; the great I AM } 
the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. 



380 



Mr. Asher. Did not our ancestors put Jesus to death 
for professing himself to he equal with God ? And, after 
his death, did not his disciples maintain his divinity, and 
pay him a correspondent regard ? 

Mr. Levi. I do not deny it. 

Mr. Asher. And yet you believe in only one God. Ex- 
plain your meaning. 

Mr. Levi, Jesus Christ is God. 

Mr. Asher. If you had lived in those days, and had heard 
a carpenter declare that he and Jehovah were one, would 
you not have thought him insane ? Or if you had been a 
magistrate in the Jewish theocracy, and as such, a guar- 
dian of the honour of God and of the rights of men ; and 
if you had thought this person to be in his sober senses, 
and an impostor, would you not have acted as our ances- 
tors did ? 

Mr. Levi. Most probably I should, unless he had by 
some means proved the truth of his claims. And even if 
he had done this, the meanness of his condition, and my 
preconceived opinion of what the Messiah ought to have 
been, might, in concurrence with my native pride, have 
disposed me to join in the cry against him. 

Mr. Asher. Do you think then that any evidence ought 
to have been admitted, that a person appearing to be a 
man, was the eternal Jehovah ? 

Mr. Levi. I think it ought ; especially if the writings of 
Moses and the prophets had given reason for expecting 
that this would be the case. If it imply an absurdity that 
God should appear in human form, how do you account for 
the divine appearances to Abraham, and other persons, 
which are recorded in the Old Testament ? 

Mr. Asher. Does it not shock our reason to suppose^ 
that the most High was an infant, a youth, a man, a poor 
man, and a mechanic ; and that this performer of miracles 
should not protect himself, if he could do it, from a scan- 
dalous and painful death ? 

Mr Levi. All these things are agreeable to our own 
prophecies. You will not say that the prophecies are 



381 



contrary to reason : the accomplishment of them, there- 
fore, cannot be so — If, however, I were conversing with 
an infidel, I would not decline the task of defending the 
reasonableness both of the prophecies and of their accom- 
plishment. I would say, that it was not contrary to reason 
that Jehovah should manifest himself to men in a human 
body, and dwell among them : I would say, that it was not 
wonderful that this holy man should be despised and per- 
secuted by wicked men. I would say, that it was not un- 
reasonable that his human body, which was prepared to be 
a veil to his glory, should grow up as a tender plant , and 
increase from the diminutive size of an infant to the sta- 
ture of a man. I would say, that it was not contrary to 
reason that he should permit himself to be put to death, 
who came to be a sacrifice for sin. I would say that it 
does not shock my reason that he who came into the 
world to bear our griefs, and to carry our sorrows, should 
become poor, that we through his poverty might be made 
rich. Independently, however, of this consideration, it 
would not have been more honourable to God if he had vi- 
sited his creatures as a king, than as a mechanic ; as a 
rich man, than as a poor man ; or as an idle man, than as 
a laborious man. The Lord seeth not as man seeth. God 
has recommended industry in his word : why then should 
he not recommend it by his example ? He has also honour- 
ed poverty, by choosing, in general, the poor of this world 
to be rich in faith, and heirs of a kingdom : is it wonder- 
ful then that he should choose poverty as that condition of 
life wherein to reside among men ? 

Mr. Asher. If Jesus was God, are there not two Gods ? 

Mr. Levi. Jesus never professed to be another God dis- 
tinct from his father, but that he was one with him. His 
being a man did not hinder but that he might also be God. 
Did he not appear to Abraham, and converse with him, 
before the destruction of Sodom ? This appearance was in 
a human form : for Jehovah was one of the three men 
who appeared to him in the plains of Mamre, when he sat 
in the tent door in the heat of the day, as appears from the 



382 



whole of the narration — Did not God appear to Joshua and 
say, As captain of the host of the Lord am I now come ; 
loose thy shoe from off thy foot, for the place whereon thou 
standest is holy ? — And did not the Lord send an angel be- 
fore our fathers in the wilderness, commanding them to 
obey his voice, and to provoke him not ; for he would not 
pardon their transgressions ; the name of God being in 
him ? — Now because God appeared in human form, you 
do not infer that there are two Gods. 

Mr, Asher. These instances are not in point. Jesus 
was a man in reality. He had a human soul as well as 
a body. 

Mr. Levi. Though not exactly similar, they are suffi- 
ciently so to answer your objection ; for if Jehovah as- 
sumed the appearance of humanity, why might he not as- 
sume humanity itself ? 

Mr. Asher. Do not Christians in general believe that 
there are three persons in the Godhead ? 

Mr. Levi. Yes, they do ; for they find the Old Testa- 
ment abounding in language which they cannot otherwise 
understand ; and in the New Testament they behold the 
Father, Son, and holy Spirit, constantly represented under 
personal names, approached in personal addresses, and re- 
ceiving personal worship. They do not suppose, however, 
that the distinction in the Godhead is equal to that of three 
persons among men, but that they are, notwithstanding this 
distinction, one God, one eternal, self-existent Being. 

Mr. Asher. How can three persons be one being ? 

Mr. Levi. They certainly cannot in the same respects; 
nor am I so much acquainted with the different respects 
in which they are three and one, as to pretend to find any 
thing among creatures by which to illustrate it. It is a 
mystery, which I can neither explain nor comprehend. 
Who by searching can find out God ? The divine eternity 
and immensity are equally incomprehensible. On subjects 
like these, it is wiser to pause and adore than too curiously 
to inquire. There are mysteries in creation and provi- 
dence : is it wonderful therefore that there should be 



385 



mysteries in the word of God ? It becomes us to be hum- 
ble, and not to think of ourselves above what we ought to 
think. 

Here the conversation on this subject closed. 

The next morning after breakfast Mrs. and Miss Levi 
took a walk into the city, and desired me to accompany 
them. I little thought what was the design. My kind 
benefactors make it their study to heap favours upon me, 
which I fear it will never be in my power to repay, except 
with prayers for their happiness. We went to a linen- 
draper's shop, where Mrs. Levi bought a great number of 
articles which I supposed to be for herself, whereas the 
whole was intended for me. I felt myself weighed down 
by the favours I received, and so I told my kind benefac- 
tress. Miss Levi, perceiving my confusion, took hold of 
my hand, and said. My dear Miss Neville, you are my sis- 
ter. Did not my father call you his child ? Do not think 
it strange that children should be provided for by their 
parents. Your new parents love you ; and I love you. 

True, my dear, said Mrs. Levi to her amiable daughter ; 
and where there is sincere affection, it will not issue in 
mere unavailing sympathy ; much less in empty compli- 
ments — My child, said she to me, I must request that you 
will not think too highly of the trifling presents which you 
have received, or may receive. It gives me pain to see 
you distressed, whatever be the cause. Believe me, Miss 
Neville, the pleasure we receive far exceeds the benefits 
we confer. 

I took her hand, and that of her daughter, and, pressing 
ihem to my lips, watered them with my tears ; but I was 
unable to speak. — Come, my child, said she, take courage. 
Your heavenly Father is able to protide for you ; and I 
have no doubt but you will see better days than these ; 
days in which you yourself will be happy in alleviating the 
distresses of others. But we must now begin to employ 
ourselves. Mr. Levi will set out for Brussels in two or 
three days, and will return in a fortnight ; and by that time 
all the articles which you have lost may be replaced. 



i 



384 

I returned my benefactress the most sincere thanks. 
And as nothing more occurred yesterday of sufficient 
importance to be related, I shall here finish this second 
letter. I am, dear Madam, 

Most sincerely yours, 

EUSEBIA NEVILLE. 



LETTER LXXIY. 

From Miss Eased: a Aeville to Mrs. Wbrthington. 

DEAR MADAM, 

JS/Ly most kind friends, Mrs. and Miss Levi, employ al- 
most all their time at their needle, m helping me to re- 
place the articles which I lost through the treachery of 
Dangerfield and his daughter. One thing which they 
took I exceedingly regret the loss of, our correspondence ; 
which I had fairly transcribed. The originals, which I 
left at home, have probably before this time been burnt, 
I do not intend to send you these letters till I am fixed in 
some permanent situation, because I think it possible that 
my dear but mistaken parent may apply to you to know 
where I am. This ought at present to be kept a secret, 
lest fresh trials should be invited. 

It gives me no small concern, that every thing which 
my friends have bought for me is too good for the sphere 
wherein I must now move. I said what I decently could 
to prevent it ; but in vain did I try to keep their generosi- 
tv from exceeding the bounds of moderation. Mrs. Levi 
and her daughter now go to the milliners without me ; for 
Mrs. L. says, that the trouble which I give them is more 
than the expense of the articles. — In all this I desire to 
view the hand of providence. Our heavenly Parent raises 
up friends to aid us in our distress ; and when we can de 
nothing, he does every thing. 

Mr. Levi came home early in the evening. He says 



385 



that the bastile is destroyed, and that M. de Launay, tht 
governor of it, has been beheaded by the populace. 

My dear friend, said Mr. Levi to me this mofniog I 
have had a great deal of conversation concerning you with 
Mrs. Levi and my daughter. I fear that the present com- 
motions in France are only a prelude to troubies more 
widely extended, in which other countries will be involved. 
There is a considerable revolutionary spirit in my own 
country. I intend to remove either to New-York or to 
New-England. We all wish to render you service ; but 
this cannot easily be effected if we are separated. Ac- 
company us, and partake of our good and evil. You have 
lost one parent : I will endeavour in some measure to sup- 
ply his place. I have but this one child to provide for ; 
and she already considers you as her sister. 

Miss Levi arose and embraced me, which token of love 
and friendship I most cordially returned. My dear Euse- 
bia, said she, you must accompany us. You are indeed 
my sister. I feel a growing affection for you ; and we 
shall all rejoice to make you as happy as you make us. 

It would give me great pleasure to accompany you, said 
I ; but why, my dear friends, should I be an incumbrance 
to you ? I can teach Italian, French, and Latin : this, I 
,hope, with the divine blessing, will procure me a main- 
tenance. 

I doubt not but it might, answered Mr. Levi ; and if 
you prefer it, we will prefer it also for your sake. As to 
your being an incumbrance, that objection is provided 
against. I have a nephew, an heir to an ample fortune, 
who is an orphan, and under my guardianship. He is 
nine years of age. I wish to have him instructed in the 
Latin and English languages. And we shall be obliged 
to you if you will endeavour to improve your sister in the 
grammatical knowledge of English. 

If I had had no inclination to take this voyage, I could 
scarcely have resisted these solicitations ; especially when 
I perceived that I might be of some use in this worthy fa- 
mily. I therefore returned them my sincere thanks, and 

% & 



38(5 



said that I would gladly accept the favour ; at which they 
all, but especially my young friend, testified no small satis- 
faction. 

I am, dear Madam, 

Yours most sincerely, 

EUSEBIA NEVILLE, 



LETTER LXXV. 

From Miss Eusebia Aevilie to Mrs. Worthington, 

DEAR MADAM, 

Mr . LEVI returned from Brussels two days ago. To- 
morrow we are to leave this city, and to go to Dunkirk. 

Yesterday we drank tea and supped at Mr. Asher's, 
when the following conversation took place between that 
gentleman and Mr. Levi. 

Mr. Asher. Iam not in the habit, Sir, of attacking Chris- 
tians respecting their religion ; for I think that every man 
should continue in the religion to which he was brought up. 
But I am really astonished, notwithstanding all you have 
said, that you should forsake a religion so well attested as 
ours, and become a follower of a man that was crucified. 

Mr. Levi You believe, Sir, the prophecies concerning 
the Messiah : what do you think he was or is to accom- 
plish ? 

Mr. Asher. He will bestow great benefits on the world 
at large, but upon us in particular. 
Mr. Levi. Temporal or spiritual ? 
Mr. Asher. I do not know. 

Mr. Levi. Which blessings are greatest, and would most 
redcund to the divine glory ; national prosperity, or soul 
prosperity ; the conquest of external enemies, or of inter- 
nal depravity ; riches in the present world, or pardon of sin 
and eternal life in that which is to come ? 

Mr. \sher. Hie blessings of eternity without doubt * 
for temporal blessings bear no proportion to them, 



387 

Mr. Levi. And yet our nation are looking for a Messi- 
' ah, who they suppose is to procure them temporal bles-^ 
sings.— Let me ask you again ; how are we to account for 
the early institution of the worship of God by sacrifice ? It 
seems to have been practised soon after the fail. 

Mr. Asher. The guilt of the offender appears to have 
been transferred in a sort to the victim. 

Mr. Levi. How then do you understand that passage in 
the fortieth psalm, Burnt-offering and sin-offering hast thou 
not required : then said 2", Lo r I come ; in the volume of the 
book it is written of me ; / delight to do thxj willy O my 
God ? 

Mr. Asher. It is a difficult passage. I know how Chris- 
tians understand it. 

Mr. Levi. They understand by it, that the sacrificing ctf 
the brute creation was, in its own nature, unable to take 
away sin ; and that, therefore, it was to continue no longer 
than till a body should be prepared for the habitation of the 
Deity. They also think that the command given to Abra- 
ham to sacrifice that son from whom the Messiah was to 
spring, was not intended merely to try his faith and obedi- 
ence, but to prefigure what God designed to do. My son, 
cried Abraham, God will jirovide himself a lamb for a burnt* 
offering. Abraham intended this as an evasion ; but we 
think that God intended it as a prophecy. 

Mr. Asher. You cannot convert me to Christianity. I 
cannot so lightly abandon the religion of my ancestors. 

Mr. Levi. I have not abandoned it. I glory in its truth, 
It is the foundation on which Christianity is built. — But to 
return : you grant that the pardon of sin is the greatest of 
all blessings. 

Mr. Asher. There can be no happiness without it. 

Mr. Levi. Ought not this favour to be conferred in such 
a way as to make all intelligent agents tremble at the 
thought of offending God ? 

Mr. Asher. There seems to be a propriety in this. 

Mr. Levi. Are there not many intimations and predic* 
tions that the Messiah was to be a great sufferer, and that 
he was to suffer on account of sin ? 



3S8 



Mr. Asher. I grant it. To reconcile these passages 
with others which speak of him as victorious and trium- . 
phant, you know that some of our people have thought 
that there will be two Messiahs, the one a conqueror, the 
other a sufferer. At present my mind is in a state of sus- 
pense about it 

Mr. I ^evi. The same Messiah who was a sufferer, wasr 
also a conqueror. — But, my good Sir, since you acknow- 
ledge that our Scriptures predict a suffering Messiah, 
how can you prove that Jesus was not that suffering Mes- 
siah ? Or why, when you know that I profess him to be 
the Messiah, do you mention his crucifixion as an objec- 
tion ? 

Mr. Asher. Because I think it was blasphemous for a 
man who was crucified to call himself God. Jesus fre- 
quently asserted his divinity in language too obvious to be 
mistaken ; and the writers of the New Testament assert 
it without disguise. Some Christians have endeavoured 
recommend their religion to us by representing this doc- 
trine as a modern invention : but this has no effect upon 
us ; we know that it is explicitly and abundantly contained 
in the New Testament. 

Mr. Levi. The New Testament, Sir, maintains the di- 
vine unity, at the same time that it declares that Christ was 
God. — But you have retreated from the position which you 
^t first took. You no longer object to his being the Mes- 
siah because he was crucified. Your present ground of 
objection is, that you think he was a blasphemer. 

Mr. Asher. You mistake if you think that I have relin- 
quished my first ground of objection. I continue to object 
to a crucified Messiah ; for of what use could his crucifix** 
ion be ? 

Mr. Levi. You may learn this by reading the prophet 
Isaiah, who informs us that the Messiah was to be wound- 
ed for our transgressions, and bruised for our iniquities.; 
that the chastisement of our peade was to be upon him ; 
that with his stripes w r e were to be healed; and that the 
iniquity of us all was to be laid upon this despised, yet glc- 



lious personage. His crucifixion, therefore, is a commen- 
tary on the sacrifices under the law ; and he was the great 
sacrifice of which they were only types. — Permit me now 
to ask what you think is the first and great duty of rational 
creatures ? 

Mr. Asher. To love God. This includes love to his 
commandments, and consequently obedience to them ; for 
where there is not obedience, there cannot be love. 

Mr. Levi. Is it not probable that God, in pardoning his 
offending creatures, would do it in such a way, as wouk} 
overwhelm transgressors with an awful view of the dire ef- 
fects of sin, at the same time that it melted them, and inr 
spired them with ardent love to himself, from a deep and 
heart-felt conviction, that he alone, against whom they 
had sinned, had been the author of their deliverance ? 

Mr. Asher. I think it is. 

Mr. Levi. My intention is to show that Christianity, 
right reason, and divine revelation, are but three names 
for the same thing. I will, therefore, further ask, whether 
if the Saviour of sinners had been a mere creature, s'n 
would have worn so terrible an aspect ? 

Mr. Asher. Your argument requires that God should 
suffer and die, which to me appears absurd. 

Mr. Levi. You should rather have said, mysterious. 
Christians acknowledge that the doctrines of the Trinity 
and Incarnation are mysterious. The second person in 
the trinity having assumed our nature, the blood of Jesus 
is on that account called the blood of God. Not that we 
believe that, properly speaking, God can suffer : the divine 
and human natures, though united so as to form a divine 
person, continued distinct. What we mean is, that the 
value of the blood of Jesus, considered as the great atone* 
ment for sin prefigured by all the sacrifices under the law* 
arose from his being a divine person. 

Mr. Asher. You talk of the second person in the trinity. 
Do not our Scriptures maintain that God is one ? 

Mr. Levi. Yes ; one being. But still there is a plurali- 
ty of persons, There is the Father, and there is the Son, 

2 K 2 



390 

JCiss the Sony said the psalmist ; and, Blessed are all they that 
put ifiefr trust in him. Could this be said of any one but 
God ? — Again ; The Lord said unto my Lord. Who but 
God could be called David's Lord ? 

Mr. Asher If the three divine persons are one being, 
wherein does their distinct personality consist ? 

Mr. Levi. It is but little that the most exalted creature 
can know of him to whom nothing can be compared. The 
unity of Jehovah, and the divinity of the Messiah and of 
the holy Spirit, are written as with a sun-beam. The sa- 
fest way is, to content ourselves with the belief of these 
truths, without investigating the theory of them. Many 
who have inquired too curiously into this unsearchable doc- 
trine, have suffered for their temerity. 

Mr, Asher. Then why speak of it at all ? 

Mr. Levi. So far as it is revealed, it is our duty to speak- 
of it. The ancient navigators, before the invention of the 
compass, were afraid to venture out of sight of land The 
Scriptures are the shore, along which our weak barks 
ought to coast. 

Mr Asher. Why did not Jesus from the beginning tell 
his disciples, in the clearest language, that he was Jeho- 
vah appearing visibly to men ? 

Mr. Levi. It was necessary that they should be led for- 
ward step by step. Such a full blaze of the truth as m ake 
in upon them after his ascension, would at that early peri- 
od have overpowered them, and would have destroyed all 
familiar converse with him. 

Mr. Asher. Might not, however, the apostles in their 
writings have so explicitly declared that Jesus was Jeho- 
vah, that no person calling himself a Christian could have 
denied it ? 

Mr. Levi. It does not comport with the wisdom and 
righteousness of God to state the truth in so forcible a 
light, as that they who seek occasion to reject it shall not 
be able to succeed. The meek he will guide in judgment : 
the meek he will teach his way : — but the scorner setketh wis- 
dsm,and Jindcth it net. (Ps. xxv. 9. Prov. xiv. 6.) If 



391 

things had been so stated as to preclude all objections, Je- 
sus /luci not have been that which it was declared he 
should be, a sign which should be spoken against, that (he 
thought* of many heart* might oe rcveaLd (Luke ii. 34, 
35 ;) the predictions of false doctrines and heresies among 
the professors of Christianity, and of the antichri tian apos- 
tasy, would not have been accomplished ; and the prophe- 
cy of Isaiah would not have been fulfilled, Go, and tell this 
people, hear ye indeed, but understand not ; and see ye in- 
deed, but perceive not. Make the heart of this people fat, 
and make their cars heavy, and shut their eyes ; lest they 
see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand 
with their heart, and convert, and be healed. Chap. vi. 9, 10. 

Mr. Asher. Does not the language of some Christians 
seem to countenance the opinion of there being a plurality 
©f Gods ? 

Mr. Levi. They do not believe in a plurality of Gods. 
It is possible, however, that there may sometimes be an 
impropriety in their language, in consequence of their at- 
tempting to define and explain a doctrine which can neither 
t>e explained nor comprehended. 

Mr. Asher. Well ; you must go by your Scriptures, 
and we must go by ours. 

Mr. Levi. I wish you, Sir, to make your Scriptures the 
rule of your faith ; but you do not do so. Their leading 
subjects, are, the person and work of the Messiah, the re- 
jection of him by our nation, and the reception of him by 
the gentiles. They also predicted the destruction of our 
city, our dispersion through the world, and our continuing 
a long time without a king, and without a prince, and with- 
out a sacrifice. Afterward, continues the prophet, shall 
the children of Israel return, and seek the Lord their God, 
and David their king, and shall fear the Lord and his good- 
ness in the latter days. David our king, is He w 7 ho now 
sits on the throne of David, and the throne of whose king- 
dom shall be established for ever. 

Mr. Asher. For ever could only mean for a long time. 
More is said concerning the perpe uity of the law, than 
concerning the perpetuity of the kingdom of David. 



39^2 

Mr. Levi. And they are both perpetual. It is true we 
have been many clays without a king, and without a prince, 
and without a sacrifice. Yet, notwithstanding these exter- 
nal observances have ceased, which were the shadow of 
good things to come, the law continues, and will continue 
to the end of time ; for the Son of David is the King and 
the Prince of his people, whether Jews or gentiles ; his 
sacrifice is a sacrifice of infinite dignity ; and he is a high 
priest who hath an unchangeable priesthood. 
I am, dear Madam, 

Your sincere friend and servant, 

EUSEBIA NEVILLE.. 



LETTER LXXVI. 

Frcm JMiss Euiebia Neville to Mrs. ViorthingiQih. 

DEAR MADAM, 

I AM now with Mr. Levi and his family at Amsterdam. 
The attention paid to me by my kind benefactors, is not in 
the least diminished ; and my affection for them is not less 
than theirs for me. 

Our road lay through Cassel. The mountain on which 
it is built being very steep, we walked up it ; for it was 
with difficulty that the poor animals drew the coach. When 
we were near the summit, Mr. Levi picked up a petrified 
shell. My dear, said he to Mrs. Levi, what does this re- 
mind you of? The deluge, replied she. 

That wonderful event, said Mr. Levi, is confirmed by 
the tradition of almost all nations. The truth of our sa- 
cred books is likewise corroborated in various other parti- 
culars by the ancient history of the heathen world. But 
what greater proof of their truth can be required than the 
present state of our own nation, dispersed all over the 
world, and observing annual festivals which have been ce- 
lebrated ever since the time of the miraculous events which 



393 

they commemorate? And if the Jewish Scriptures are 
true, the Christian Scriptures are true likewise : they must 
stand or fall together. The most important of our prophe- 
cies are unfulfilled, and will never be fulfilled, if Jesus of 
Nazareth was not the Messiah. O my dear, how thankful 
ought we to be to our heavenly Father, that he has made 
us the disciples of his beloved Son. Yes ; the despised 
Jesus was the true Messiah. 

I never, till I was a Christian, replied Mrs. Levi, saw 
that glory in our sacrifices which I now behold. They for- 
merly appeared with a light, resembling the light of a 
glovv-wo' m : they now r resemble the sun in the firmament. 
The Christian Messiah is that despised, ill-treated, and 
rejected person, whose coming was predicted in the psalms, 
and the time of whose advent was foretold by Daniel. I 
cease to wonder at the sceptre's being departed from Ju- 
dah ; for Shiloh is come ; and the promise to David is 
made good, that the government should continue in his fa- 
mily for ever. 

I inquired at Cassel concerning M de Bethune, a friend 
qi my brother's, and found that he had embarked for Ame- 
rica, with his wife and family, but a week before. Had I 
known this when I was at St. Omer's, I certainly should 
have fled to him for protection : but I have no reason to 
repine ; for I could not have been treated more kindly than 
I now am. 

As soon as the waiter at our inn at Dunkirk observed 
that I spoke English, Madam, cried he, a young gentle- 
man was here yesterday, inquiring for an English lady, 
who, he said, had been shipwrecked about a month before 
on this coast. I told him, that I knew such an accident 
had happened about that time to a small sloop bound for 
London, and that several persons had been saved by a 
smuggling cutter, but that I did not know any thing about 
them. — Pray, said I, did you ask the name of the lady ?— 
He replied, that he did not ; but that, according to the 
gentleman's description of her, she was just such a person 
as myself. 



394 

1 should not have mentioned this trifling matter, had it 
Hot been for what follows. Having staid three days at 
Dunkirk, we went on board the Alcide, bound for Amster- 
dam, a small vessel with only two sailors and a boy, beside 
the captain. We had not been many minutes on board be- 
fore the captain said to me, Pray, Madam, is not your 
name Neville? What is your reason, Sir, answered I, for 
inquiring after my name ? I will tell you, Madam, replied 
he. A tall young gentleman came on board a few days 
ago, and inquired about a lady of that name. His descrip- 
tion of her would very well correspond with yourself. I 
think he must be a lover, added he ; for he described her 
as having no equal. 

That is a pretty good description of this lady, said Mrs* 
Levi, especially if his estimate include the mind. 

I blushed, and replied, If I am the person whom the 
gentleman wanted, he was certainly as partial to me. Ma- 
dam, as you are. But pray, Sir, can you recollect any 
particular features in the gentleman's countenance ? 

Perfectly, cried M. de Luchereau; for I was as much 
taken with the expressiveness of his face, as I was with 
the manliness of his person. His hair and eyes were of 
a dark brown : the form of his nose inclined to the aque- 
Tme ; and his complexion was florid. 

This astonished me. Till I heard this I had no doubt 
of its being my brother : but my brother's eyes are blue, 
and his hair is of as light a brown as mine. The gentle- 
man did not tell M. de Luchereau his name. 

The wind being contrary, and the weather tempestuous, 
Miss Levi and 1 were very sea-sick. Great attention was 
paid to us by the kind Mrs. Levi, w T ho had been many voy- 
ages, and w r as not at all affected. W hen we had landed, 
and were come to Mr. Levi's house, the parlour in which 
we sat appeared to me to rise and fall, and to have the 
same motion with the vessel: but after a night's sleep I 
felt myself perfectly recovered. 

I am, dear Madam, 

Most affectionately yours, 

EUSEB1A NEVILLE, 



395 



LETTER LXXVII. 
From Miss Euscbia Neville to Mrs. Worthingior: 

DEAR MADAM, 

Yes TERDAY afternoon a Mr. Samuel, a relation of 
Mr. Levi, and about the same age, called to see him. 
Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Levi was at home : but they were 
both expected to return to tea. Saying that he would stop 
till Mr. Levi's return, he was shown into the room where 
Miss Levi and I were sitting. 

After a few minutes' silence he thus began, addressing 
himself to me, Well, Madam, I suppose you are one of 
those who worship that dead man. 

Eus. If you mean to say, Sir, that Christians worship a 
dead man, I deny the charge. It rests with you therefore 
to prove it. 

Mr. Sam. Your own Scriptures, Madam, declare that 
Jesus the carpenter died. 

Eus. They do so. But I must beg leave to observe, 
that we worship him not as man but as God. And you 
will further notice, that although our Scriptures declare 
that he died, they also declare that he rose from the dead, 
which fact is as well confirmed as that Enoch was transla- 
ted, or Elijah taken to heaven in a fiery chariot. It is in- 
deed as well authenticated as any fact whatever which hap- 
pened at that distance of time. Our Lord was seen and con- 
versed with during forty days after his resurrection, not on- 
ly by twelve pious men whom he chose to be witnesses 
of what he did and taught, but by more than five hundred 
persons at one time, the greater part of whom were ap- 
pealed to by Paul, in his famous defence of the resurrec- 
tion of the dead, as then living. The medium by which 
he proved the resurrection of the dead, was the resurrec- 
tion of Jesus, that being a known and acknowledged fact, 

Mr. Sam. 1 cannot believe his resurrection. 

Eus. Then, Sir, you will be obliged to believe a thing 



S9$ 

far more incredible. You must believe that twelve poor 
men, who anxiously laboured to promote their own salva- 
tion and the salvation of others, and who have composed 
the most perfect system of ethicks that the world has ever 
seen, were a set of villains and impostors. 

Mr. Sam. I do not believe this ; but i believe that they 
were enthusiasts, and their master an impostor. 

Eus. Can you then believe, that about a hundred and 
twenty persons were so far deceived by Jesus, as to be per- 
suaded that he raised the dead, that he opened the eyes of 
the blind, and that he healed the leprosy, and many other 
diseases, although he did none of these things ? Do you 
think, Sir, that the most understanding man in Amster- 
dam, w r ould be able to persuade a considerable number of 
people, that they saw him raise the dead, heal the blind and 
deaf, and cause the lame to walk, unless he actually did so f 
The miracles of Jesus and of Moses bore no resemblance 
to legerdemain. Were the disciples of Jesus carried 
aw r ay by enthusiasm, when, at two different times, they and 
several thousand other persons were fed with a small 
quantity of food ; when they supped with their friend La- 
zarus, after he had been buried four days ; and when they 
beheld the resurrection of the widow of Nam's son, whom 
they accidentally met as he was carrying to interment ? If 
these miracles were net performed, the disciples of Jesus 
Were wicked deceivers. But that they were not deceivers* 
their writings prove. They overflow with love to God and 
men ; and contain nothing inconsistent with what Moses 
and the prophets have written. The Jewish Scriptures 
are in unison with the Christian, and are the foundation on 
which the Christian Scriptures are built. 

Mr. Sam. Where is it required in our Scriptures that 
a poor carpenter should be considered and treated as God? 

Eus. We believe Jesus to be the Messiah. Now there 
are many predictions in your Scriptures that the Messiah 
"was to be Jehovah residing among his creatures. 

Mr. Sam. Mention one of them. 

Eus. Isaiah predicts the birth of a child, who was to 



sit on the throne of David for ever, and who was to be called the 
mighty God. the everlasting Father, and the prince of peace. 
Zechariah predicts the death of the Messiah, and his equa- 
lity with the Father, in the following language. Awake, O 
sword, against my shepherd, and against the man that is my 
fellow, saith the Lord of hosts. This exalted personage was 
to be ushered in by a herald, who was to cry in the wilder- 
ness, Prepare ye the way of Jehovah, make straight in the 
desert a high way for our God. Before him every valley 
was to be exalted, and every mountain and hill was to be 
made lew. Jerusalem is commanded to lift up her voice, 
and to say to the cities of Judah, Behold your God ! Behold, 
the Lord God will come with strong hand, and his arm shall 
rule for him : behold, his reward is with him, and his work 
before him. He shall feed his flock like a shepherd : he shall 
gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, 
and shall ge?2tly lead those that are with young. 

Mr. Sam. Do these predictions, my young friend, prove 
that Jesus was the Messiah ? 

Eus. That is not what I was required to prove ; but that 
according to the Jewish Scriptures, the Messiah was to be 
God. This they fully establish ; and unless your ancestors 
could have disproved the claim of Jesus to be the Messiah, 
they ought not to have condemned him for blasphemy be?- 
cause he made himself equal with God. Neither, unless 
you can disprove that claim, ought you to accuse me of 
worshipping any other being than Jehovah, whom Moses 
and your fathers worshipped, 

Mr. Sam. If Jesus was the Messiah, how came our fa- 
thers to reject him ? 

Eus. It was predicted that they would reject him. Isaiah, 
speaking of the Messiah, expressly declares that he should 
be despised and rejected of men ; should be oppressed and 
afflicted ; should be brought as a lamb to the slaughter ; 
should be taken from prison and from judgment ; and 
should be cut off out of the land of the living. If your fa- 
thers had not rejected him, his soul would not have bees 
made an offering for sin > nor would he have been the 

£ L 



398 



great atoning sacrifice prefigured by the paschal lamb, by 
the sacrifices under the law, and probably by the command 
given to Abraham to sacrifice his son. The psalmist, in 
prophesying of the death of the Messiah, mentions the 
piercing of his hands and his feet ; the dividing of his gar- 
ments, and the casting of lots on his vesture ; and the re- 
proachful language with which he should be addressed in 
the hour of death. It is also worthy of being remarked, 
that he was slain at the time of the passover, a circumstance 
which could not be of his own contriving.— I do not say 
that it is impossible for prejudiced persons to misinterpret 
these prophecies. If that obscurity had not attended them 
which always attends prophecy, your ancestors would not 
have fulfilled them by putting the Messiah to death. 

Before this conversation terminated, Mrs. Levi returned ; 
and Mr. Levi shortly afterward. After tea, Mr. Levi and 
Mr. Samuel had a conversation which I will relate in my 
afext letter, 

I am, very affectionately, 
Dear Madam, 
Your sincere friend, 

EUSEBXA NEVILLE, 



LETTER LXXVIIL 

From Miss Eusebia NeviUe to Mrs. Worthingtoru 

DEAR MADAM, 

.AFTER having settled some commercial matters, Mr. 
Samuel said to Mr. Levi, This young lady and 1 have had 
a long debate about the truth of Christianity ; and I assure 
you she has acquitted herself very well. But, my friend, 
as we both worship the one Jehovah, what great difference 
can here be between your religion and ours ? 

Mr. Levi. There is not an article of the Christian faith 
which is not contained in the religion of our fathers. The 



399 

prophecies respecting the Messiah have been fulfilled in 
Jesus. In rejecting Jesus, therefore, you reject the pro- 
mised Messiah. 

Mr. Sam. But if we do it ignorantiy, shall we not be 
pardoned, if we worship Jehovah, and endeavour to obey 
his precepts ? 

Mr. Levi. This, at best, is doubtful. Moses, prophesy- 
ing of the Messiah, told our fathers, that God would raise 
them up a prophet from among their brethren like unto 
him ; and that if any one should refuse to hearken to him, 
God would require it of him- Besides, how can you be 
said to worship Jehovah, and to endeavour to obey his pre- 
cepts, while, by your rejection of Jesus, you are saying 
concerning the Lord and his anointed, Let us break their 
bands asunder, and cast away their cords from us ? 

Mr. Sam. If we cannot believe that Jesus is the Messiah, 
how can we help it ? Will God condemn us for disbeliev- 
ing what w T e cannot believe ? 

Mr. Levi. The reason you cannot believe is on account 
•f your prejudice. You either do not read the New Tes- 
tament, or, if you do read it, yet, being convinced before- 
hand of its falsehood, you read it with a determination to 
find fault. When you read it, you ought to pray for the 
divine assistance. 

Mr. Sam. I am astonished that you should become a 
Christian. Do not the Christians maintain that there are 
three Gods ? 

Mr. Levi. Jesus invariably maintained the divine unity. 
The writers of the New Testament do the same, at the 
same time that they plead for the divinity of the Father, of 
the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. 

Mr. Sam, Do our Scriptures say any thing about the 
Trinity I 

Mr. Levi. They frequently glance at it. God said at 
the creation, Let us make man in our image ; at the confu- 
sion of tongues, JLe$ us go down and confound their lan- 
guage: and in Isaiah's vision, Whom shall I send, and who 
ivill go for us? He exhorts the kings and judges of the 



400 



earth to kiss 'the Sen. To the Messiah lie said, Thou ant 
my Sen ; this day have I bt gotten thee : and concerning him, 
I trill make him my first born, higher than the kings of the 
earth. — As to the Spirit of God, he is frequently mentioned 
in the Old Testament. 

Mr. Sam. Christians talk of God 3 s sending his Son into 
the world. How can God send his Son, if the Son himself 
is God ? This is a difficulty with which our Scriptures are 
not embarrassed. 

Mr. Levi. Have you never read what the prophet Zecha- 
riah says ? Sing and rejoice, 0 daughter of Zion : for lo, I 
come, and I will dwell in the midst of thee, saith the Lord. 
And many nations shall be joined to the Loud in that day, 
and shall be my people ; and I will dwell in the midst of thee, 
and thou shalt know that the Lord of hosts hath sent me unto 
thee. It appears from this prophecy, that the Messiah was 
to dwell in Judea ; that this glorious personage was to bo 
Jehovah ; that he was to be sent by Jehovah ; and that the 
nations were to be joined, or converted to him. 

Mr. Sam. What kind of personality do you suppose the 
personality of the Trinity to be ? Some Christians talk of 
modal personality, and some of real. What is your 
opinion ? 

Mr. Levi. I do not know that either the Jewish or' the 
Christian Scriptures answer this question ; and where they 
are silent, I think it my duty to be silent too. I believe 
that the Father is God, that the Son is God, and that the 
holy Spirit is God ; and yet that there are not three divine 
Beings, but only one divine Being. As far as this, the 
Scripture goes ; but here it ceases. To inquire further, 
and to endeavour to find out the unrevealed mysteries of 
the divine nature, argues a presumptuous and vain curiosi- 
ty, and cannot but offend that great Being, who would not 
permit our ancestors to draw near and gaze when he de- 
scended upon Mount Sinai, 

Mr. Sam. What good has your religion done to man- 
kind? Have not Christians, by their persecutions, destroy- 
ed more of the human race than have been destroyed by 
the plague ? 



401 



Mr. Levi. If I were to tell you, Sir, of the crimes of 
some of our countrymen, you would reply, that Judiism is 
aot chargeable with the crimes of its professors. Permit 
me to make a similar reply in defence of Christianity. The 
spirit inculcated in the New Testament, is not a spirit of 
persecution, but of love to both the bodies and souls of 
men. When Christianity is perverted, and rendered an 
engine of the state, it ceases to be the religion of Jesus 
Christ. Christians are not answerable for the blood which 
has been shed by men bearing the Christian name. The 
Christianity which I have embraced is the Christianity of 
the New Testament. I do not think myself bound, nor 
have I an inclination, to defend any other. What does the 
JNew Testament, therefore, say upon this subject ? Where 
do Christ and his apostles teach us to injure one another ? 
Is there any thing conducive to the glory of God, and to 
the good of mankind, which they have not taught, both by 
their precepts and by their example ? Whether it be true 
or false, Christianity is a religion which is safe ; and it is 
worthy of God whether he be the author of it or not. 
Where are the perfections of the Deity placed in a more 
amiable light than in the New Testament, or where do 
you find a more divine morality ? We are not merely 
taught by it to love God : but, if we cordially receive its 
doctrines, we shall be irresistibly induced to love him. 
The great difference between the Old Testament and the 
New is this. In the former, many important blessings 
are promised ; in the latter, they are declared to have 
been conferred. If the Christian religion be true, (which 
I cannot doubt,) and if I embrace it in reality as well as 
by profession, I become a partaker of those blessings. 

Mr. Sam. Why did not Jesus give our fathers such a 
proof of his being the Messiah as would have overcome 
their incredulity ? 

Mr. Levi. What greater evidence can you require than 
the miracles which Jesus and his apostles wrought. Was 
it not enough for the dead to be raised, for the blind to see, 
the deaf to hear, and the lame to walk ? But these mira- 

2 L 2 



402 



cles produced no better effect upon our ancestors, than the 
miracles of Moses did upon Pharaoh. The truth is, that 
both the one and the other possessed an obduracy and en- 
mity of heart which it was not in the power of miracles to 
remove. They hated the light, and would not come to the 
light, lest their deeds should be reproved. Read the 22d 
psalm: you will there see the enmity of our ancestors 
against the Messiah predicted. 

Mr. Sam. If they did what was predicted, where lay 
their crime ? 

Mr. Levi. This objection will not be esteemed valid at 
the bar of God. The revealed will of God, and not his 
secret purposes, ought to be the rule of our actions. 

Mr. Sam. Can an inspired book contain such errors and 
contradictions, and things so incredible, as are to be found 
in the gospels ? 

Mr. Levi. If by errors you mean the errors of tran* 
scribers, they are not to be placed to the account of the in- 
spired writers, and they are so unimportant as not in the 
least to affect the truth of any doctrine or of any fact, con- 
tained in the sacred volume. As to incredibility, what is 
therein the New Testament more incredible than in the 
Old ? Or what is there in either beyond the power of God 
to effect I Jl'hy should it be thought a thing' incredible with 
you that God should raise the dead? — It is not to be won- 
dered at that in the book of divine revelation there should 
be obscurities, and even seeming contradictions, the for- 
mer of which cannot now be elucidated, nor the latter re- 
conciled, owing to the length of time which has elapsed 
since the various parts of it were written ; nor that there 
-should be doctrines in it beyond the reach of our limited 
understanding.— Bur were the difficulties in the Old Tes- 
tament and in the New more numerous and important than 
they arc, do you find nothing, Sir, in the books of nature 
and of providence, which has a tendency to try your faith? 
May not an atheist tell you of rcc^s in the sea, hurtful in- 
stead of being useful, ana bearing no marks of wise con- 
trivance ; of lions, also, and tigers ; and of toad.^ ser- 



403 



pents, and noxious insects ? And may he 'not mention ma- 
ny instances in which the wicked have prospered, and the 
righteous have suffered adversity ? Yet you do not on these 
accounts disbelieve a superintending providence, or the 
manifestation of the divine wisdom in the works of crea- 
tion. In arguing with such a person you would say, that a 
few objections, and those doubtful, and relating to things 
of which we have an imperfect knowledge, ought not to be 
opposed to the wisdom of God in his works, visible in 
numberless instances, and to the universal experience and 
historical testimony of his kind providence. Now what I 
wish is, that you would only view the Old and New Testa- 
ments with the same candour. I mention the Old Testa- 
ment as well as the New : for the one has its difficulties 
as well as the ether. I do not say this to disparage the 
sacred volume handed down to us by cur ancestors. It 
deserves my reverence and my love. I receive it as the 
word of God. Let ail that has been written concerning 
the rabble of heathen deities be compared with the iOSd 
and 104th psalms, or with many other parts of the Jewish 
Scriptures. As well might you compare the grossest 
darkness with the bright beams of yonder luminary. That 
luminary, however, has its spots ; the works of creation 
have their seeming defects : providence has its mysteries 
which we cannot unfold ; and the Jewish Scriptures have 
their difficulties. Is it any wonder then that the Christian 
Scriptures should not be without theirs? 

Mr. Sam. What is your opinion, Mr. Levi, concerning 
divine inspiration ? 

Mr. Levi, 1 believe, Sir, that every good man is under 
the influence of the Spirit of God. This is more the case 
at some times than at others, because there is frequently an 
extraordinary necessity for the divine interposition to com- 
fort, to direct, to guide into necessary truth, and to recover 
from dangerous error. But the inspiration of the sacred 
writers was of a different kind. Their writings are pub 
lie fountains, in which all necessary truth is preserved, that 
the world may drink of their salubrious waters. 



404 

Mr. Sam. Jesus promised to bring all things to the re- 
membrance of his disciples. Did the Spirit of God die* 
tate every word and phrase in which they composed the 
history of their master ? 

Mr. Levi. Not in such a way as to set aside the exercise 
of their thinking powers, or the peculiarities of their 
style. 

Mr. Sam. You believe that they were preserved from 
flagrant errors ? 

Mr. Levi. I certainly do. 

Mr. Sam. Then tell me ingenuously what you think of 
the two first chapters of Matthew. Do not the guidance 
of the wise men by a star, and Herod's command that the 
young children at Bethlehem should be slain, appear like 
legendary tales ? If Josephus had heard of these things* 
w r oukl he not have related them ? Besides, you are a bet- 
ter philosopher than not to know the impossibility of a 
person's being directed to a house by the appearance of a 
star over it. 

Mr. Levi. When God is about to perform wonderful 
things, he often uses extraordinary methods for the ac- 
complishment of his purpose. Witness the wonders per- 
formed in the land of Egypt, which, I doubt not, are rank- 
ed by unbelievers with legendary tales, notwithstanding 
there were many hundred thousand spectators. In the two 
chapters you speak of, nothing unworthy of God is record- 
ed. The Messiah was to be the Saviour of the Gentiles, 
as well as of the Jews. Why then should the early exhi- 
bition of him to the Gentiles excite our astonishment ? 
The star I suppose to have been an appearance at no very 
great height in the atmosphere : the same word is used by 
Greek writers to express what we call a shooting star. 
Now if some such meteor was seen by the Magi, was it 
impossible for God to inform them of its import ?■— As to 
the murder of the young children, I grant that Josephus 
might be acquainted with it, as well as with Herod's other 
cruelties. But it is very unsafe to infer from the silence of 
any author, that a fact recorded by another cannot be true, 



405 



The facts related by every historian are very far from be- 
ing all that occurred in the times of which he writes. 
Many things are related by every historian which are 
omitted by cotemporary writers. The fact in question is 
omitted by three out of four of the evangelists. Add to 
this, Josephus, like the rest of his countrymen, was preju- 
diced against Jesus ; and therefore it is not surprising if 
he should have carefully avoided the recording of those 
things which related to him. If the paragraph in his his- 
tory which relates to him be authentic, yet it is extremely 
imperfect, and avoids entering into particulars; and if it 
be spurious, which is very probable, it will follow, thatj 
notwithstanding the notoriety of the life and death of Je- 
sus, he has preserved a determined and stubborn silence 
concerning him, either from hatred to the Christians, 
whom he would not deign to mention, or rather perhaps 
out of regard to Vespasian, whom he had flattered by cal- 
ling him the Messiah. 

Mr. Sam. How can such an ignorant application of pro- 
phecy be accounted for, as is to be found in those chapters? 
In Hosea, where it is said, u I called my son out of 
Egypt," a past event is referred to, and not a future one 
predicted. 

Mr, Levi. I grant that those words refer to the journey 
of the Israelites from Egypt to Canaan. But our sacred 
books contain prophetic histories, as well as express pre- 
dictions. And although the connexion between those his- 
tories and the future events to which they referred may 
not have been always pointed out by the holy Spirit, as it 
has been in this instance, and in the lamentation of the 
mothers for their children at the time of the Babylonish 
captivity, yet there is such a striking resemblance between 
many of them and the history of Jesus, that I cannot but 
think that this resemblance was intended to be one among 
the numerous proofs of his divine mission. In the histo- 
tory of Joseph, in particular, Rollin has pointed out this 
resemblance in a great number of instances. 

Mr. Sam. Why was the resurrection of Lazarus men- 



406 



tioned only by John ? The three other historians could net 
forget so wonderful a fact. 

Mr. Levi. As they wrote their histories many years be- 
fore John wrote nis, it is probable that Lazarus was then 
alive, and that the relation of it by them might have ex- 
posed him to the malice of the Jews. 

After Mr. Samuel was gone, many remarks were made 
by Mrs. Levi and myself on the different things which 
had been said daring the conversation. Miss Levi also 
asked many questions, as she frequently does, very much 
to the purpose. My love for this amiable young lady daily 
increases. She copies after her excellent mother, who is 
a model of affability, and of Christian politeness. What 
an asylum my good God has provided for me ! The kind- 
ness of my dear friends to me is inexpressible. Their par- 
tiality toward me is so great, that they are pleased with 
every thing I say, and with every thing I do. Much of 
my time is occupied in instructing my pupils, and in nee- 
dle-work. I scarcely ever go from home ; so that were I 
to attempt to describe the city wherein I reside, its inhabi- 
tants, and the surrounding country, it would be doing that 
imperfectly which has been already w T ell done by others. 
I am, dear Madam, 

With sincere respect, 
Affectionatelv vours, 

EUSEBIA NEVILLE, 

LETTER LXXIX. 
From Miss Eusebia Neville to Mrs. Wortkington. 

BEAR MADAM, 

We arrived at New- York on Friday last. We had fk 
long passage, in consequence of contrary winds ; and our 
water was very indifferent as well as short. 

I suppose that before this time you have heard from me. 
We met the Friendship, bound for London, from wbicfc 



40? 

our captain procured a cask of water. I embraced the op- 
portunity ot writing a short letter, just to let you know 
that I was well. 

A very extraordinary occurrence has happened since our 
arrival. As I was walking with my two pupils on the 
wharf, and enjoying the sight of Long-Island, of the sea, 
and of the shipping, which form a delightful view, a gen- 
tleman, looking at me very steadfastly, said, Madam, if my 
eyes do not deceive me, I know your name. You can be 
no other than the sister of Mr. William Neville, a young 
gentleman that I was acquainted with in France, and whom 
I loved like one of my own children. — Sir, replied I, is 
»ot your name de Bethune ? — Indeed it is, answered he. 
My acquaintance with your brother commenced at Cassel, 
I wrote to him at St. Omer's, but have received no answer. 
Pray what has brought you to this part of the world ? Your 
father and brother, I suppose, are with you. 

Here I related what had befallen me, from the time that 
rny father discovered me to be a protestant to the present 
period. M. de Bethune was affected at the narration. He 
said that business had brought him to New-York, but that 
he and his family resided near New-London, in Connecti- 
cut ; that if it were in my power to accompany him thither, 
his house and his purse should be at my service ; and that 
I should find a family who knew how to value the sister of 
Mr. William Neville. I returned him my sincere thanks, 
Miss Levi and I invited him to accompany us to our lodg- 
ings. Mr. and Mrs. Levi received him in the kindest man- 
ner, and intreated him to dine with them, to which he rea- 
dily consented. 

It gives me great pleasure, my dear Sir, said M. de 
Bethune to Mr. Levi, to learn from Miss Neville, that you 
are one of the spiritual descendants of your great ancestor, 
and that you have embraced the religion of that Messiah, 
whose day he saw afar off, and rejoiced, and was glad. 

It is my unspeakable mercy, answered Mr. Levi ; and I 
desire to bless God on this account. 

After some conversation about America, M. de Bethune 



408 

said, You are come, Sir, to a country, where men of diffe- 
rent religions live in greater harmony than perhaps in any 
other. The reason is, that no one is established by law as 
the favourite of the state ; and that no person is deprived 
of any civil right on account of his religious sentiments. 

Mr. Levi. This, Sir, is right. Persecution cannot pro- 
duce a change of sentiments. Besides, the prejudices, 
connexions, and capacities of men, their means of informa- 
tion, and their modes of expressing themselves, are so va- 
rious, that uniformity of sentiment is not to be expected. 

M. de Bethune. No greater injury can be sustained by -a 
sect of Christians, than to be more highly favoured by the 
state than their brethren. This undue preference gives 
birth to pride and arrogance. Conformity to the divine 
image is not so much sought after, as a continuance of the 
partiality of government in their favour. Avarice, and all 
the selfish passions, have full scope. However pure the 
sect might be before it was connected with the state, this 
'anion must render it corrupt ; for in all struggles fcr 
wealth and power, the worst men generally gain the ascen- 
dency. The humble minister of Jesus Christ will prefer 
poverty and a good conscience to flattering the vices of the 
great, and other nefarious arts, by which ecclesiastical pre-' 
ferment is too frequently acquired. By this unnatural coa- 
lition, also, the malignant passions have been begotten and 
cherished. By it the lamb has been transformed into the 
lion ; and the most pure and benevolent religion that ever 
blessed mankind, has been made an instrument of avarice 
and oppression. Those Christians who had no other pre- 
tensions to the divine favour, than because they were fa- 
voured by the state, have shed the blood of millions ; and 
although providence has diminished their power, they are 
still very unfriendly to dissenters. In the United States it 
is veiy different. The general and equal protection afford- 
ed to alh tends to cut up envy, and to unite them together 
as far as the nature of things will admit. 

Mr. Levi. An antichristhn spirit began to display itself 
in the apostolic days. Diotrephes opposed Christ under 



409 

the Christian name. To thirst after pre-eminence in the 
Christian church, is to oppose the Messiah, and to under- 
Tttine his authority, Antichrist was to sit in the temple of 
God, and to claim divine honour. He was to be supported 
by the kings of the earth, was to traffic in the souls of men, 
and was to murder the servants of Jesus. These things 
are contrary to the spirit of the gospel. This is the por- 
trait of national churches, as appears from the united testi- 
mony of history and experience, compared with the predic- 
tions of the New Testament. Our nation complains, and 
justly, of the persecutions which they have suffered ; but 
their persecutors were either merely nominal Christians, 
or their minds were oerverted by their connexions. The 
despised followers of Jesus have been persecuted, as well 
as they, by antichristian societies armed with the power of 
the magistrate. Justice, however, obliges me to acknow- 
ledge, that there are many persons, both ministers and 
private Christians, in religious establishments, who would 
be an honour to any church. 

M. de Bethune. Very true, Sir ; and in their present si- 
tuation we must let them continue, until God in his provi- 
dence shall show them, what an essential difference there 
is between a society engaged in an unlawful connexion with 
tfie kings of the earth, and congregations gathered out of 
the world by the Spirit and word of God, and united toge- 
ther for the purposes of hearing the Scriptures illustrated 
and enforced, of observing the institutions of Christ, and of 
reproving, comforting, and watching over each other. The 
former maintains the authority of the magistrate in reli- 
gious matters : the latter regulate their- faith and practice 
by the word of God* and in spiritual concerns submit to no 
one but the great head of the church. 

M, de Bethune invited us all to reside with him the 
whole summer at his farm near New-London. This ini i- 
tation I believe we shall accept, as Mrs. Levi and her 
daughter, as well as myself, wish to see more of the ccin- 
try. Mr. Levi will not have it in his power to accompany 

2 M 



410 



us, but will be employed in looking cut for an eligible situ- 
ation. 

I intend to send all these letters bound up in one parcel, 
by the first vessel that shall sail for London. I beg the fa- 
vour of your sending, as soon as you receive them, a letter 
by the packet, directed for me, at Mr. Thomas Paterson's, 
Wall-street, New-York. Mr. Levi has temporary apart- 
ments at his house, till he determines where to settle. 

I need not add, that I wish to receive all the informa- 
tion you can give me concerning yourself, your niece, and 
my family. I am, dear Madam, 

Your faithful friend and servant, 

EUSEBIA NEVILLE 



LETTER LXXX. 

From Miss Eusebia Neville to Mrs* Worthing: tin, 



DEAR MADAM, 

In my last letter I informed you that M. de Bethune, the 
friend of my dear brother, had invited Mr. Levi, his family, 
and myself, to visit him at his farm, which is about seven 
miles from New-London. Mr. Levi could not accompany 
us ; but he wished us to accept the invitation. 

Mr. Bethune, (for so that gentleman calls himself in this 
country,) was to return in three days. At bis earnest re- 
quest, we accompanied him in a carriage provided for the 
purpose. The country through which we passed was fruit- 
ful, but not in so high a state of cultivation as France or 
England. The ptice and rent of land are so low, that the 
farmers will not take the trouble to make it produce the 
most it possibly can ; but they occupy a great deal of land, 
and cultivate it badly. Compared, therefore, with the t "n- 
gli.-.h, they may be called negligent farmers. This is not, 
however, universally the case. 

In two days we arrived at Mr. Eethune's. His house ts 



4 11 

large and convenient, bat plain and unadorned. Mrs. Be- 
thune is a wife worthy of such a husband. When we en- 
tered this happy dwelling, he said, My love, I have brought 
you three visitors, whom I recommend to your notice as 
the friends of Jesus Christ. — Your friends, my dear, an- 
swered she, cannot be unwelcome guests. — But you must 
tell me who this lady is, continued Mr. Bethune, (pointing 
to me :) you have never seen her before ; but you knew 
and esteemed her brother. — She immediately embraced 
me, and said, I am most happy in seeing the sister of Mr. 
William Nevilie. — 1 told this good lady that my name 
was indeed Neville, and that I had no doubt but that ours 
would be a growdng friendship : to which she kindly as- 
sented. — Mr. Bethune briefly related the principal events 
-of my history down to my acquaintance with the family of 
Mr, Levi. She heard the narration with tears of joy. It 
had the same effect on a son, about ten years of age, and 
on two daughters, one about eleven, and the other about 
fourteen. These, with a son who is married, and settled in 
Kentucky, are the whole of the family. 

The attention paid to Mrs. and Miss Levi was the most 
polite and respectful. 

After a slight supper, family worship was performed 
with great solemnity. One of the young people read a 
chapter out of the prophets ; another a psalm ; and the 
third a chapter out of the New Testament. Mr. Bethune 
concluded with prayer. 

We then retired to our apartments. My room is neat 
and comfortable. I awoke early in the morning, and was 
dressed by five oVlock, being desirous of beholding the 
beauties of nature, the sight of which always affords me 
the most exquisite pleasure. 

Though it was so early, I found Mrs. Bethune and her 
maids in the dairy, whither many large and well-filled pails 
were bringing to be converted into butter and cheese, of 
which articles a great quantity is made in the states of 
Connecticut and Rhode-Island. Mrs. Bethune took me in- 
tg her orchard, and her kitchen-garden. In the former I 



413 



saw abundance of fruit-trees. Such as are raised in Eng- 
land against the wall, wkh much care and attention, are 
standards here, and bear plenty of excellent fruit. 

We then went to see the cows, (a great number of 
which had been brought to be milked,) and the other in- 
habitants of the farm-yard. The sight of the turkeys, 
geese, ducks and hens, gave me much pleasure — These 
are honest people, Madam, said 1 : I love their company, 
and am happy in their friendship, which is never insincere, 
i — A dra-ving-room, replied this good lady, would sufYtr ex- 
ceedingly in the eyes of a wise man, if the since rky of 
those who compose it were to be measured by that of my 
honest domestics. 

I would not detain Mrs. Bethune any longer from her 
family concerns, but told her that I was going to write to 
London. A servant is come to inform me that breakfast 
is ready. 

I am, dear Madam, 

Yours verv respectfully, 

EUSEBIA NEVILLE. 

LETTER LXXXI. 

From Miss Eusebia Seville to Mrs. Wortkington, 

DEAR MADAM, 

When we left New-York, Mr. Paterson, who has 

great acquaintance among masters of ships, promised, that 
if a vessel should sail for London before my return, he- 
would give me information in time. 

I have received from him the pleasing information that 
the Mentor is to sail for London in ten days. Mr. Pater- 
son assures me, that I may depend on the captain's care of 
whatever he may be entrusted with. I have told Mr. Be- 
thune, that if he has any letter to send to England, I can 
enclose it. He replied, that he should certainly embrace 
the opportunity of writing to my brother. I intend to en- 
close the letter with mine, and to leave it to you to di- 



413 



reel it. My beloved brother and my dear Miss Barnwell, 
will consider what I have written to you as intended equal- 
ly for them. I would not, on any account, have my ho- 
noured parent or my sister, see these letters, as I fear they 
would only increase their indignation, and together with it 
their guilt. 

I feel no resentment against those who have injured me, 
but daily pray for them. Perhaps my dear parent may 
have forgotten what he terms my heresy and disobedience, 
and may now be mourning too intensely for my loss ; es- 
pecially when he reflects how active a part he took against 
me. But I hope that my short letter, written on shipboard, 
reached you, and that he by this time knows that I am 
alive, and able to provide for myself. This was all which 
it was proper for me to say, till I was out of the reach of 
force, or even of persuasion. 

This country delights me more and more. The clear- 
ness of the sky, the serenity of the weather, the beauty of 
ail the natural objects around me, the great abundance of 
the necessaries of life, and the comfortable situation of the 
industrious poor, exhilarate my spirits. 

Mrs, Bethune, who is a native of America, prefers it to 
Europe. As we were walking in the kitchen garden, I 
asked her a variety of questions about the country, and 
have received from her a great deal of information. 

It astonishes me, Madam, said I, that such friends of li- 
berty as the Americans are, should tolerate slavery. 

Where the love of liberty, answered Mrs. Bethune, flows 
from self-love, they who are the most strenuous for their 
own liberty are the most careless about that of others. But 
the true friend of liberty cannot but detest slavery. It is 
painful to him even to behold that oppression which it is 
not in his power to alleviate. 

This morning, after prayer, Mrs. Levi said to Mr. Be- 
thune, As you were born in France, a place overrun with 
superstition and infidelity, pray, Sir, how came you to em* 
brace sentiments so different from those which prevail in 
catholic countries ? 

% M 3 



414 



I must reserve Mr. Bethune's answer for my concluding 
tetter, and sincerely subscribe myself. 
Dear Madam, 

Your affectionate friend and servant, 

EUSEBIA NEVILLE. 



LETTER LXXXII. 

From Miss Eusebia Neville to Mrs. Worthing ton. 

DEAR MADAM, 

Mr. BETHUNE replied as follows : 

" My father was a descendant from a younger branch of 
the family of the duke of Sully. Having lost my parents 
at the age of twenty, I sold a small paternal estate in the 
neighbourhood of Cassel, and determined to seek my for- 
tune in America. My forefathers, notwithstanding much 
persecution, having adhered to the faith of their ancestors, 
I also retained the name of a protestant, but without any 
real religion. Having long determined to leave my native 
country, I had prepared for it by making myself master 
of the English language, in the course of which I read 
many English books, written by persons calling them- 
selves Unitarians. These greatly delighted me ; and I 
became a convert to their sentiments. 

" Having deposited my property in the hands of a 
banker, I embarked for Quebec, and after a passage of 
seven weeks, landed in a country, where the works of God 
are sublime and magnificent ; where there are forests the 
bounds of which have never been traced, and rivers that 
have the appearance of seas. I did not dislike Canada ; 
yet, having an inclination to live under the English go- 
vernment, I went, in the middle of summer, with several 
companions, to New-York. I found the country more 
pleasant and fruitful, the further I advanced toward the 
south. The situation of New-York pleased me very much. 
It is, I believe, as well situated for water carriage as any 



415 



place in the world. That city* however, was not appoint- 
ed by him who settles the bounds of our habitation, to be 
the place of my residence. 

" I was now determined to visit Connecticut, Rhode 
Island, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire ; and i be- 
lieve I should have cone so, had I not been arrested in the 
way by this iady, (pointing to Mrs. Bethune.) 

" In my road from New-York to Boston, I stopped a 
few days at New-London, which is about seven miles from 
this place. On such occasions it was my custom to make 
excursions into the adjacent country, a place to settle in 
being kept constantly in view. Being obliged by the scan- 
tiness of my patrimony to practise economy, I travelled on 
foot, and had been walking some hours, and viewing the 
little townships which are scattered over this delightful 
country, when, having lest my way, I wandered a consi- 
derable time without seeing a house, or any person from 
whom I could gain inform alien. I followed the path I 
was in, till I arrived at a hamlet consisting of a few scat- 
tered houses. Stopping at one which had the best appear- 
ance, a gentleman came to the door about sixty years of 
age, tali, and rather thin, but with a most amiable counte- 
nance. As soon as he knew my situation, he desired me 
to w r alk in. It is very improper, Sir, said he, that you, 
who are a stranger, should attempt, at the close of the clay, 
to find a road which at best is but intricate. I accepted 
his friendly invitation to stay all night in his humble dwell- 
ing, as he pleased to call the comfortable and roomy house 
Wherein I now reside. Alter taking seme refreshment, I 
sat down with him and this lady, (looking at Mrs. Bethune,) 
and briefly narrated my history, and that of my family, to 
the time of my cahing at his friendly mansion, and also 
mentioned my intention of purchasing an estate when I 
had found one to my mind. He told me in return that 
his name was Woocibrid^e, and that his grandfather had 
left England in the reign of Charles the second, that he 
might enjoy the liberty of worshipping Gocain the wilder- 
ness of America, as this country might then be properly 



41 G 



called *. that many branches of his family resided in differ- 
ent parts of the continent ; that the providence of God 
had preserved him in the place where he then lived, al- 
most forty years ; that he had been enabled to settle four 
sons on estates Which he had bought for them ; and that 
having* lost his wife, he and his daughter, the only child 
he had, unmarried, resided together. — But, my friend, 
said he, you will pardon me Lf I observe to you, that not- 
withstanding* your family were protestants, yet, in relating 
the many difficulties which you have encountered, and the 
deliverances you have met with, you have not once as- 
cribed any of the mercies which you have received to that 
olivine providence which guards us on every side. 

" Conscious of the justice of this kind rebuke, I blushed, 
and had no power to speak. 

" Sir, continued he, I do not wish to offend you : but, as 
you are young, and have no tender parent to counsel you, 
it is my desire to supply the place of such a friend. 

" I began to take courage, and ingenuously confessed, 
that my thoughts had hitherto been too little employed 
about religion, but said that I would thankfully attend to 
any thing which he might advance on the subject, being 
convinced that he could have no other object in view than 
my good. 

" Young gentleman, replied he, I thank you : it would 
indeed highly gratify me to render you service. — You are 
conscious, continued he, of your existence. You know 
that you are a rational creature, and that you are far ex- 
alted, in the scale of being, above the elements and ani- 
mals which surround you. You find yourself in pos- 
session of an ability to contemplate, measure, examine, 
and compare the natures and properties of almost eve- 
ry thing which you behold. Now it is evident, that all 
these excellent properties did not meet in one crea- 
ture by chance, but that they flow from admirable wis- 
dom, contrivance, and design ; and it is equally evident, 
that He who conferred on one part of the creation these 
peculiar excellences, intended that some valuable purpose 
should be answered by them. We w 7 ere not sent into the 



417 

world merely to eat, to drink and %& sleep He who has 
given us a power of regarding his wo?ks with pleasure, 
and his providential care with gratitude, has undoubtedly 
intended us to be his humble companions, when we shall 
have learned to think properly of him and of ourselves. 
In the present state, the human race resemble a magnifi- 
cent structure in ruins. If we are wise, we are also foo- 
lish ; if we are strong, we are also weak. But our moral 
imperfections are much greater than our natural. Selfish- 
ness is, by nature, the spring of all our actions, It does 
not merely show itself in pride, vanity, self-dependence, 
covetousness, envy, hatred, murder, and all those vices 
which are odious in the sight of men, but can also assume 
the appearance of humility, candour, self abasement, libe- 
rality, contentment, love, and universal beneficence. 

" And pray, Sir, said I, what would the world be with- 
out these virtues ? 

" Without them, replied he, or without the appearance 
of them, it would resemble a desert filled with beasts of 
prey. From whatever motive actions flow which conduce 
to the happiness of mankind, they who perform them de- 
serve the gratitude and esteem of society. But those whom 
the Parent of the universe honours with his friendship here* 
and will reward with endless felicity hereafter, are influ- 
enced by a nobler motive than what I have mentioned. 
Not that I think it either possible or desirable to devest 
ourselves of self-love : it rather is to be wished, that that 
passion should be in subordination to a more exalted prin- 
ciple. This principle they only possess, who are so wise 
as to make this book (taking up a bible) their bosom friend. 
It is with propriety called the word of God. Here he 
speaks to the children of men. Here the original and the 
present state of man are displayed, and the divine charac- 
ter is revealed. If, Sir, you know yourself, you must 
have acquired your knowledge from this book : nor is there 
any true knowledge of God but what is drawn from the 
same fountain. And unless you are by some means brought 
to think nearly in the same manner with the divine Be* 
ing, you will never dwell in his presence. 



41-8 

11 I was struck with the solemn manner in which he 
spoke these words. My dear Sir, exclaimed I, what would 
you advise me to do ? 

" Take this book, replied he Esteem and keep it for my 
sake ; but much more for your own ; and most of all from a 
regard to him who has put such an invaluable treasure into 
the hands of his creatures. Read it, and meditate on it, 
every day of your life. It will afford you matter for prayer 
and praise in your closet. If you value it as you ought, it 
will make you thankful for your existence ; it will make you 
a blessing to your family, and to the world ; it will be an an- 
tidote against the fascinating smiles of prosperity, and the 
stings of adversity ; it will give you true felicity, by causing 
you to love the Author of your being : and it will make you 
consider death as your friend, by giving you a pleasing 
view beyond the grave. 

" These things, and many others which this good man 
said, had a wonderful effect on my mind ; and a sense of 
the love of God in the salvation of sinners by Jesus Christy 
made an abiding impression on my heart. 

" In a few days I departed with considerable regret. 
Having visited Boston, and many of the principal towns 
in Massachusetts, I returned. When Mr. Woodbridge 
was satisfied that his good instructions had not been with- 
out effect, he consented to present me with this lady, for 
which favour I had before solicited him in vain. When 
we had lived together happily about thirty years, my family 
who had heard me talk a great deal about France, became 
anxious to see the place of my nativity ; and, as almost eve- 
ry person has a desire to revisit the haunts of his childhood 
and youth, I did not oppose their inclination. We went by 
the way of London to Dunkirk, and after seeing many 
parts of France, took up our residence at Cassel, where I 
was born, and where I had the happiness to meet with your 
brother. But the alarming state of public affairs made us 
anxious to return to this country. A worthy friend of mine? 
who lives about two miles distant, bought my estate when 
I went to France, and was so kind, when I returned, as 
to let me have it again for the price that he gave me for it," 



419 



Thus ended Mr. Bethune's narrative, which afforded us 
great pleasure. 

I must now hasten to a close. — I am continually think- 
ing of my friends in England. I long to see my clear 
brother, and my highly valued friend Miss Barnwell. My 
dear Mrs. Worthington, too, dwells much on my mind, as 
well as Thomas and Mary Livingstone. 

I am, with the greatest regard, 
Dear Madam, 

Yours most sincerely, 

EUSEBIA NEVILLE, 

P. S. If three months should elapse before I hear from 
England, I shall begin to be impatient. 



LETTER LXXXIII. 
From Mr. Bethune to Mr. William Aeville, 

MY DEAR SON, 

FoR what appellation can be more proper for a friend 
whom Mrs. Bethune and myself love with parental ten- 
derness, and whom my children love as a brother? It af- 
forded me equal pleasure and surprise to see your dear sis- 
ter in America. She is now at my house, as you will learn 
by her letters to Mrs. Worthington. She is frequently 
much concerned on your account: but when she reflects 
how wonderfully she has been delivered, she trusts that 
God will also deliver you. She often wishes that you, and 
her friend Miss Barnwell, and the worthy Thomas Living- 
stone and his wife, were in this country, 

When you were with us in France, 1 could perceive that 
you hid a great inclination to accompany us. But I did 
not encourage it. 1 remembered that I was a parent : how 
then could I desire you to leave your family? 1 could not 
think of acting so unjust a part. IP your parent shall have 
renounced you on account of your religion, in mo and 



420 



Mrs. Bethune you will find another father and mother, and 
in my children, brothers and sisters. I do not say that we 
will love you, but that we do love you, with a love which 
I trust will never end. In this world the love of the re- 
deemed does but commence, and it meets with many stor- 
my blasts to stop its growth : but on the other side of the 
everlasting hills an eternal spring abides, and the love of 
God and of each other will be ever growing, ever strength- 
ening, ever improving. 

You have repeatedly told me how excellent a parent, and 
how worthy a man your father is. His being your father 
gives him a claim to your love and obedience ; and his be- 
ing such a father entitles him to your most affectionate 
love and obedience. If your leaving him would give him 
any pain, by no means do it. My invitation, which I need 
not assure you is most sincere, goes only on the supposi- 
tion that, on account of your religious sentiments, your fa- 
ther may be able to part with you without regret. In that 
case come over to us, and bring Thomas Livingstone and 
his wife with you, if you can do so. 

I can add no more, but that your mother, and brother, 
and sisters, are well. Francis has settled in Kentucky, 
about thirty miles below Louisville. I do not know what 
would give us greater pleasure than to hear that Mr. Wil- 
liam Neville had landed at New- York. 

I am, my dear son, 

Your affectionate father, 

FRANCIS BETHUNE: 



LETTER LXXXIV. 
From Signior Albino to Mr. James Neville. 

DEAR SIR, 

As you and your family were in London, and we had ne 
one to conduct divine worship in your chapel, Thomas Li- 



421 



vingstone and I went yesterday to Barnwell to hear Mr. 
Lowe. We bad scarcely left Thornton, when Mr. Henry 
Clifford came to the Abbey to inquire when you were ex- 
pected to return. Being informed whither we were gone, 
he followed and soon overtook us. Thomas seemed for 
the first time ashamed of his ass, and said, that if he had 
expected to have Mr. Clifford's company, he would have- 
ridden upon one of his master's horses. — If you think'* 
Thomas, replied Mr. Clifford, that I esteem your company 
a dishonour to me, on account of your riding on an ass, I 
assure you that you are mistaken. However, it seems a 
little out of character, if we consult the etiquette of the 
world, for Mr. Neville's major-domo to ride on so unfa*- 
shionable an animal. I wish mankind would learn to des- 
pise those things only which are in their own nature disho* 
nourable. 

As we were passing by Mr* Barnwell's house, he and 
his lady stood at the gate of the court-yard. — Mr. Clifford, 
cried Mrs. Barnwell, is the age of chivalry returned ? I 
see you have got your squire. 

We are going, Madam, answered Mr. Clifford, to hear 
Mr. Lowe. 

Astonishing ! cried Mrs. Barnwell. He is an illiterate 
fellow ; and when such commence preachers, they hold 
themselves up to contempt. 

It i3 no new thing, replied Mr. Clifford, for the servants 
of God to -meet with contempt. The poor fishermen of 
Galilee held themselves up to contempt, and they were 
treated as you have treated your neighbour. 

Come, come, friend Clifford, cried Mr. Barnwell, get 
off your horse and go to church : we shall have service in 
the afternoon. Of all the people in the world, I never 
thought that you would have gone mad. However, I de- 
sire that you and Siguier Albino will dine with me. 

I thank you, Sir, for your invitation, answered Mr. 
Clifford ; but I cannot think of forsaking my friend Li- 
vings tone. 

Surely, Sir, cried Mrs. Barnwell, no apology is nece£ 
2 N 



422 

sary, because he was not invited. Every one ought to keep 
up his dignity. 

In what a beggarly soil will pride flourish ! said Mr. 
Clifford, after we had left them. Poor Barnwell took this 
pert woman, not only without a shilling, but a hundred 
pounds in debt to milliners and others : and she knows 
that I am not ignorant of this ; for they have quarrelled 
about it in my presence. 

Mr. Clifford having ordered a dinner at the public house? 
we went to the meeting. The building was small and un- 
adorned : but in real grandeur it far surpassed many state- 
ly edifices. When God manifest in the flesh came sud- 
denly to the second temple, its glory was rendered far 
greater than that of the first. And it is the presence of 
the same Jehovah among his servants, that gives a digni- 
ty to the meanest place of worship, which cannot be con- 
ferred by a profusion, either of stones and mortar, or of 
gold and silver. The place was large enough for the num- 
ber of worshippers, and sufficiently magnificent for those 
who are influenced by the spirit of their divine Master,, 
who entered this part of his dominions in a stable, and re- 
tired from it on the cross. You and I, my dear friend, 
have thought otherwise, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Barnwell ; 
but I am now convinced, through the divine mercy, that if 
Christianity does not humble us to the very dust, it does 
nothing for us. 

Having seated ourselves on a form, among a decent but 
poor people, whose attention was so great that it would 
have been almost possible to hear the falling of a pin, the 
minister, who appeared to be about fifty years of age, and 
the size and colour of whose hands showed, that, like Raul, 
he was obliged to make use of them for his own and his 
family's support, read the 9 2d psalm by Watts, which the 
congregation sung with great devotion. Mr. Clifford held 
his handkerchief all the time before his eyes. In prayer, 
which was extemporary, Mr. Lowe appeared to have awful 
views of the majesty of God, joined with a humble confi- 
dence in his mercy. 



423 



His text was Rev. iii. 22. He that hath an ear, let him 
hear what the spirit saith unto the churches. — Mr. Lowe, in 
a very impressive manner, stated the importance of a re- 
verential regard for the word of God. Mr. Clifford heard 
with great attention, and, as he told us at dinner, with great 
pleasure. 

In the afternoon, the text was in John vii. 37. If any 
man thirst, let him come unto me and drink. Mr. Lowe 
proved, both by arguments and examples, that no created 
good, whether it be riches, or pleasure, or honour, can sa- 
tisfy the desires of an immortal soul ; but that, after the 
greatest possible enjoyment of these, a thirst will remain, 
which can only be removed by the promises and prospects 
of the gospel, by the love of God shed abroad in the heart, 
and by a sense of reconciliation through Jesus Christ, with 
that holy Being against whom we have "sinned. 

When divine worship was concluded, Mr. Clifford in- 
vited this good man to drink a cup cf tea with us, to which 
he consented. He was very meek and unassuming, and 
appeared to be perfectly contented with his situation. Mr. 
Clifford asked him what he received yearly from his hear- 
ers. He answered, on an average about ten pounds, which 
he said he looked upon as a very liberal contribution, when 
he considered the poverty of those who subscribed it. 

Ten pounds ] cried Mr. Clifford ; you amaze me. Be 
so kind, Sir, as to accept of this, (at the same time offering 
him a sum of money in a silk purse.) 

I cannot accept so great a favour, especially at this time, 
said Mr. Lowe : however, I return you, Sir, my sincere 
thanks. 

What is the reason, said Mr. Clifford, that you cannot 
accept it ? 

The reason, replied he, is this. Your passions have 
been warmed by hearing the gospel. Such impressions 
are sometimes lasting, and at other times only temporary. 
There can be no fruit without blossom ; but there is some- 
times blossom without fruit. If this should only be a sud- 
den flow of the affections, without any genuine love to the 



424 

truths you would regret what you had done. This, Sir, I 
am not willing to hazard. 

^ God forbid, cried Mr. Clifford, putting the money into 
his pocket. I would much rather that a mill-stone should 
be tied about my neck, and that I should be cast into the 
sea. — But, my friends, you must all promise to dine with 
me on Wednesday at one o'clock : it will make a longer 
afternoon — To this we consented. 

With my kind respects to my good friends at Islington, 
I am, dear Sir, your obedient 
And obliged servant, 

ANTONIO ALBINO. 



LETTER LXXXV. 

From Signior Albino to Mr. James Nevillq* 

DEAR SIR, 

M R* Lowe and Thomas and I went, according to our ap- 
pointment, to dine with Mr. Clifford, on Wednesday last, 
The first thing Mr. Clifford said was, that he was exceed- 
ingly pleased and much instructed by Mr. Lowe's sermons. 

We took a walk in the gardens ; and while Thomas and 
I were admiring the works of art, as well as of nature, and 
observing that both were equally the gifts of God, we found 
that our companions had deserted us. They soon rejoined 
us ; but we knew not the reason of their absence till we 
were returning to the house. 

We then learned, that Mr. Clifford had beckoned Mr. 
Lowe to go with him, and that when they were in a re- 
mote part of the garden he said — Well, my dear Sir, I 
have had time to consider whether I can part with my 
money to a servant of Jesus Christ, and I am thankful that 
I can do it with pleasure. This (putting a purse into his 
hand) contains twice as much as the other did, and I will 
be your friend in future. Mr. Clifford, after having la- 
mented his former enmity to the gospel, and blessed God 
for his mercy manifested in Jesus Christ, thus continued ; 



425 



O my friend, hope from any other quarter is despair ; but 
in the Son of God I behold a fulness capable of supplying 
all my wants. But why do you not put up that trifle I 
have presented you with ? I can now receive it, replied 
Mr. Lowe, with great thankfulness, and with inexpressi- 
ble pleasure, as fruit which will abound to your account. 

After dinner Mr. Clifford began the conversation with 
praising the simplicity of the dissenting worship The 
church of Rome, said he, in the magnificence of its tem- 
ples, in the vestments of its priests, and in its ostentatious 
ceremonies, has taken for its model the old Testament dis- 
pensation. In these things the church of England too 
nearly resembles the church of Rome. The dissenting 
worship appears to me far more congenial to the spiri- 
tuality of the Christian dispensation. But do you not think, 
Sir, said he to Mr. Lowe, that there are real Christians in 
protestant national churches? 

Mr. Lowe. I have no doubt of it ; and in Catholic na- 
tional churches also. But if the bishops of Rome had, as 
Christians, been equal to Paul or John, yet in their official 
capacity, they would have been the heads of the anti- 
ehristian body. 

Mr. Clif. If a member of a national church may be a 
Christian, is it unlawful for a Christian to continue in a na- 
tional Church ? 

Mr. Lowe. A Christian is not contented with being 
merely in a safe state, but anxiously desires to make the 
revealed will of God the rule of his practice. If any one 
were to say to me, " I have examined the New Testament 
with a sincere desire to learn whether it be lawful to con- 
tinue in a national church, and I have prayed to God for 
direction, and am after all persuaded that it is not my duty 
to leave it," I should thus reply : You ought undoubtedly 
to act according to your judgment ; but it is your duty to 
examine whether your judgment be not biassed by the 
prospect of worldly interest, or by the fear of temporal dis- 
advantage. Either of these is sufficient to bar the gate of 
heaven against vou. 

2 N 2 



426 



Mr. Cfif. It undoubtedly becomes us to take heed, that 
we do not condemn ourselves in those things which we 
venture to practice. 

After a short pause, Thomas said to Mr. Lowe, I have 
had many thoughts concerning the 1260 days or years 
mentioned in the Revelation. When do you think, Sir, 
they began ? Was it at the civil establishment of Chris- 
tianity, or when the pope became a temporal prince ? 

Mr. Lowe. Both opinions may be right. As the Baby- 
lonish captivity of seventy years had different beginnings 
and different endings, so may it be with regard to the 
reign of antichrist. When the emperor of Rome profess- 
ed himself a Christian, the " let " or hindrance was re- 
moved, whereby Judaizing Christians were impeded in 
making again of godliness. After that event, there was 
little or no obstruction to the gratification of the selfish pas- 
sions, except that which arose from competition between the 
contending parties. 1260 years from the year 3 12, when 
Christianity or rather antichristianism was established, bring 
us down to the latter part of the sixteenth century, when con- 
siderable progress had been made in the divine art of print- 
ing, and in the Reformation. As antichrist began visibly 
to rise, and to deny the Son of God as Head of the church, 
when Constantine had taken the " let" out of the way, so 
at the expiration of 1260 years from that time he began vi- 
sibly to fall. For what is a pope or an archbishop of Can- 
terbury, now, compared with their predecessors in the 
time of our Henry the second? But if, for the commence- 
ment of the reign of antichrist, the time be fixed on whet} 
he became a temporal prince, its conclusion will bring us 
to the year 201 6> at which period it is possible that the an- 
iichiisiian hierarchy will be totally extirpated. In my 
opinion, however, neither the pope and his clergy, nor the 
protestant bishops and their clergy, think that it will con- 
tinue so long. The diffusion of knowledge has long made 
the ground tremble whereon that great great city is built ; 
and its inhabitants feel the shaking. 
Mr. Clif. The dissenters are sometimes spoken of as a 



427 



disloyal body of people. Is there any ground for such a 
charge I 

Mr. Lowe. There are certainly intemperate persons 
among them, as well as in the church of England ; and a few 
such characters attract a great deal of public notice, and are 
beheld with exultation by the high-church party : but tak- 
ing them as a body, there certainly is not the least founda- 
tion for such a charge. Their political principles are now 
the very same which they were in the reigns of George I, 
and George II. when they were considered and treated by 
government as inferior to none in attachment to the Han- 
overian family, while the bulk of the established clergy 
were in opposition to the court. During the present reign 
the clergy have gone over to the court ; and it is become 
the fashion to call the. dissenters disloyal. As under dif- 
ferent administrations opposite measures are pursued, it 
would be the basest hypocrisy to pretend to approve of 
both. But 1 am firmly persuaded that, under the most 
unpopular administrations, they would be the last persons 
in the kingdom to abet riot or rebellion. 

Mr. Clif. What do you think would be the conduct of 
.the dissenters in case of an invasion ? 

Mr. Lowe. That they would be surpassed by none in 
the zealous defence of their country. 

Mr. Clif. Don't you think, Sir, that they would, with 
.pleasure, take an active part in the demolition of religious 
establishments ? 

Mr. Lowe. They are the most determined enemies of 
rioting, and of anarchy and could not do so without first 
renouncing their principles. With respect, Sir, to my 
few hearers, they are a poor people ; they understand no- 
thing about politics, nor do they -meddle with them. I 
teach them to honour the king, and to obey magistrates in 
civil concerns; but to learn their religion entirely from 
the holy Scriptures, and in the concerns of their souls to 
consider themselves as accountable only to God. 

Mr. Clif. I thank you, Sir, for your answers to my in- 
quiries. They are perfectly satisfactory to me. 



428 



The conversation at tea was on miscellaneous subjects. 
I am, with due respect to all my good friends at Isling- 
ton, Dear Sir, 

Your obliged friend and servant, 

ANTONIO ALBINO. 



LETTER LXXXVI. 
From Mr. Charles Clifford to Mr. Henry Clifford* 

MY DEAR AND HONOURED FATHER, 

I HAVE received the joyful information that my beloved 
Eusebia is in the United States. I intend, with the divine 
permission to embark in the first ship that sails for Ame- 
rica, whether from London or Bristol. She is in the fa- 
mily of a Christian Jew. They are most worthy people. 
How kind the providence of God has been to her, to intro- 
duce ber into so excellent a family. I long to be under 
sail, and clear of the British channel. How I shall delight 
to see the shores of the country which contains my Euse- 
bia I hope to be there in two months : but that will be a 
long time. 

Mrs. Worthington received yesterday a parcel by the 
Mentor, which had a passage of six weeks from New- York. 
It contained eleven letters from Eusebia, and a letter to 
Mr. William Neville from a friend of his who resides in 
Connecticut. 

I have read two letters from Signior Albino, wherein he 
gives an account of his going with you and Thomas Li- 
vingstone to Barnwell meeting, and also of his dining at 
your house with Thomas and Mr. Lowe. I rejoice, and 
my friends rejoice, that we have received so strong a con- 
firmation of your love to the Redeemer, in the kindness of 
which you have shown to him in the person of one of his 
servants. 

I have sent my servant to Bristol to inquire whether 
there is a vessel there that is on the point of sailing. It 



429 



will be a fortnight before one will sail from London, and I 
cannot think of waiting so long. 

Our friends intend to return into the country the day af- 
ter to-morrow. I am, my dear Father, 

Your dutiful and affectionate son, 

CHARLES CLIFFORD. 



LETTER LXXXVIL 
Fro?n Mr. James Neville to Miss Euscbia Neville, 

31Y DEAR CHILD, 

How manifest are the favours which a good and gra- 
cious God bestows on his rebellious creatures ! Help me 
to adore his name, from whom I have received mercies 
great beyond my conception, and more numerous than 
my faults. My sins have abounded ; but his grace has 
much more abounded. I have a hundred things to tell you ; 
and were the task completed, a hundred more would pre- 
sent themselves to my view. 

I had every reason, my dear child, to suppose that you 
were in the depths of the sea ; and I accused myself of 
having been your murderer. You can have no conception 
of the grief with which I have been overwhelmed. But 
these afflictions were mercies in disguise. I learn by your 
letters which we have received from New-York, that it 
was the swindler and his daughter who perished. Well ! 
had it not been for that deception, you might have perished 
also. The stealing of your clothes and money, distressing 
as it was to you, has been a mercy to me. They were re- 
covered from the ship, together with the book which con- 
tained the correspondence between you and your friends, 
transcribed with your own hand, every word of which 
brought to my mind that form with which I had been so 
long and so justly delighted. O my Eusebia ! you cannot 
know the feelings of a parent's heart, till you yourself are 
a parent. My severity proceeded from a zeal for your 
welfare. But your letters and those of your friends* 



430 



through the divine blessins, have made me think very dif- 
ferently both of you and of myself. I have seen that my 
zeal was a blind zeal, not regulated by the word of God : 
that my confidence was chiefly placed in external forms of 
devotion, and in almsgiving ; and that the love of God, and 
faith in the atonement of Jesus Christ, constituted no part 
of my religion. But I bless God that he has enabled me 
to say with Paul, What things were gain to me, those I count* 
ed l&ss for Christ. 

Will you not rejoice with me when I tell you, that at 
my return, I found your poor persecuting sister sitting at 
the feet of Jesus, and learning her religion entirely from 
his word ? In attempting to answer the correspondence 
between you and your friends, she found (to use her own 
expression) that you were an angel, and that she had been 
a devil. But she, as well as myself, has repented in dust 
and ashes. 

She had sent for Miss Barnwell, who was at the Abbey 
when we arrived, but who, fearing me as a monster, as in- 
deed all persecutors are, immediately fled to Thomas Li- 
vingstone's. I sent for her, when I knew she was there, 
merely because she was your friend ; and she has been a 
great blessing to me and to Signior Albino, in establishing 
us in the truth. Yes, my daughter, would you have 
thought it ? Signior Albino has renounced the pageantry 
of popery, and has cast himself, as a guilty sinner, upon 
the mercy of God manifested in Jesus Christ. 

The good Thomas Livingstone is my steward, and 
Mary Livingstone is my housekeeper. The chapel is pu- 
rified from every appearance of popery ; and your brother, 
at our unanimous desire, presides in the worship of God, 
w T hich consists in singing Dr. Watts's Psalms and Hymns, 
in prayer, and in a practical exposition of the Scriptures. 

Your dear friend Miss Barnwell is now your sister ; the 
happy wife of a happy husband. Mr. Charles Clifford, the 
bearer of this letter, is become as great a friend to Chris- 
tianity as he was an enemy. I bless God that such cases 
are not uncommon, His gray-haired father, too, Has 



431 



fallen as a penitent at the feet of Jesus, crying out, like the 
lepers in ancient times, Unclean I Unclean ! and has re- 
ceived mercy. O Eusebia, things are strangely altered 
here, to my great satisfaction and delight. 

Having given you this summary of what has taken place 
at the Abbey, and at my friend Clifford's, it would be im- 
proper to omit, that both you and I are greatly indebted to 
the care and assiduity of Mr. Charles Clifford, in endea- 
vouring to find you out in France. He merits the esteem 
of us all. It would not displease me to hear that he has a 
chief place in your esteem. 

I find myself to be insolvent when I think of the good 
Mr. Levi, and his kind wife and daughter. I can never 
pay the debt I owe them. Pray present to them my kind- 
est, my best respects, and tell them that if they should 
ever come to England, I shall be happy in rendering 
them every service in my power. I am also very 
much obliged to the good Mr. Bethune, to whom, and to 
his family, please to present the same respects, accompa- 
nied with the same invitation. 

It is unnecessary for me to tell you how much your 
brother and your new sister have been distressed on your 
account, and how strongly they feel themselves interested 
in every thing that relates to you. Your sister Maria, and 
your old tutor, possess now an affection for you equally 
tender, but mixed with great remorse on account of their 
former conduct. 

They all unite with me in every thing to you that is kind 
and affectionate. I am, my dear Eusebia, 

Your most affectionate father, 

JAMES NEVILLE. 

LETTER LXXXVIIL 

From Mr. William Neville to Mr. and Mrs. Bethune. 

MY HONOURED PARENTS, 

F .*!{ such I shall ever esteem you, I received your obli- 
ging, your most kind letter, in which you and your family 



432 



feel for my supposed distresses, and wish to relieve them, 
Please to assure my brothers and sisters, that I shall al- 
ways retain a fraternal regard for them. 

Mr. Charles Clifford, the bearer of this letter, can ac- 
quaint you with every thing that you can desire to know 
concerning me. This gentleman had a pious mother, who 
died while he was a child : his education, therefore, wholly 
devolved upon his father. Mr. Henry Clifford had many 
good properties as a man, but no religion. As a father, 
he has always been most tender of his son, who is his only 
child ; as a master, he has ruled with gentleness ; and as 
a landlord, nothing has given him greater pleasure than to 
see his tenants get forward in the world. In a word, he 
is a compassionate, generous man. 

Mr. Henry Clifford early imbibed a contempt of the 
clergy, as well as of religion, which he seemed to think 
inseparably connected. But I have the satisfaction to tell 
you, that I have every reason to believe that his sins are 
pardoned, and that he possesses that love of the supreme 
Being which distinguishes true Christianity from Chris- 
tianity so corrupted as to be the promoter of ambition, 
avarice, and sensual gratification. 

The son walked in the steps of his father. He received 
a polite education, and having made the tour of Europe, 
returned to England with impressions unfavourable to the 
Christian religion. In this state of mind he made his ad- 
dresses to Miss Barnwell, a religious lady, by whom they 
were rejected. That lady, whom my dear Eusebia must 
have mentioned to you, I have now the happiness to call 
my wife. We had been married a month when the letters 
from you and my sister arrived at Mrs. Worthington's, at 
whose house we then were on a visit, together with my fa- 
ther and sister and Mr. Charles Clifford. 

This gentleman being in the company of Miss Barnwell 
and of my sister Eusebia, the latter not only confuted his 
deistical opinions, but also in some measure convinced him 
«f the truth of our holy religion. He then received an ar- 
row from the divine quiver, and the wound could not be 



433 

healed but by an application of the blood fc&Jesus Christ. 
This conversation happened but a little time before my fa- 
ther and she came to St Omer's to see me. When he 
heard of her supposed shipwreck, he was inconsolable. 
He visited all the seaports on the coasts of England; and 
France, that he might gain some intelligence concerning 
her; and I perceive by her letters that they were bdth at 
Dunkirk at the same time. ^ 

It is my desire, my dear KrentSj that you will intercede 
with my Eusebia in behalf* of M^. Clifford. My friends, 
who are fully acquainted with, ihd who highly value this 
gentleman, unite with me in the same request, as well as 
in earnestly advising my sister not to reject him. 

I beg you to assure Mr. Levi and his family, that we en- 
tertain a high sense of their worth, and consider ourselves 
inexpressibly indebted to them for their disinterested 
kindness to my dear Eusebia. Please to tell that dear girl, 
that I had no time to write to her. Mr. Clifford came to 
take leave of us sooner than I expected, and indeed before 
I had begun to write. He is impatient to depart, fearing 
he should lose his passage to Boston. 

I intended to say something concerning the divine mercy 
to my dear father and sister ; but time will not permit. Mr. 
Clifford will give you all the information concerning us that 
you can desire. 

With sincere respects to my brothers and sisters* and all 
my good friends in America, 

I am, my dear parents, 

Your dutiful and affectionate son, 

WILLIAM NEVILLE. 



LETTER LXXXIX. 
From Mrs. Neville to Miss Eusebia Neville, 

MY VERY DEAR SISTER* 

YoU know I always greatly loved you> both as a friend; 
and after that as a Christian ; but I mvself did not know hov 

% O 



434 



much, till I Feared I should never see you any more in the 
present world. If I loved you thus affectionately when you 
were lost, I do not love you less now that you are found ; 
and if this was the case when I was Miranda Barnwell, it is 
not less so now that I am the wife of your dear brother, and 
can in a new sense call you my sister. 

We all feel the most lively gratitude to our heavenly fa- 
ther for his kind preservation of you, when We had every 
reason to suppose that you had long since made your bed 
in the mighty waters. 

We have read your eleven letters to my aunt, with great 
pleasure, and that from the good Mr. Bethune with equal 
satisfaction. The excellent Mr. Levi, too, and his amiable 
wife and daughter, are the objects of our admiration and es- 
teem. Benevolence and brotherly love are the balm of 
life, the cement of society. He who practises them most, 
is best acquainted with the rare art of rendering happy both 
himself and all with whom he is connected. Selfishness, 
on the other hand, promises great things to deluded mor^ 
tals, but performs nothing. From this source arise disa- 
greements between masters and servants, parents and chil- 
dren, husbands and wives, kings and subjects, and kingdom 
and kingdom. 

My dearest Eusebia, you will not find Mr. Charles Clif- 
ford the same person he was when he conversed with you 
at Barnwell, but the meek, the humble Christian, sitting at 
the feet of Jesus, and hearing those words of eternal life 
which proceeded out of his mouth. His father also has 
been brought to abhor himself in dust and ashes. He has 
been with Signior Albino and Thomas Livingstone to 
Barnwell meeting, to hear the good Mr. Lowe. He was 
greatly affected during the whole time, and appeared to be 
much edified and comforted. 

I am the zealous advocate of this gentleman. He me- 
rits my Eusebia's esteem. I have not the least doubt that 
he will be a good husband. 



My letter is wanted Present my love to all your friends, 
and accept the same from, 

My dear sister, 
Yours with the greatest affection, 

MIRANDA NEVILLE. 



LETTER XC. 

From Miss Ensebia -Neville to Mr. James NzviUe. 

MY DEAR AND HONOURED FATHER, 

]^J"eVER could I have expected that a time would ar- 
rive when I should address you with fear and trembling 
much less that, while you were living, I should be an or- 
phan, and compelled to wander far from those pleasing 
scenes which first made an impression on my tender years. 
The consideration that I have no interest in your affections, 
nor in the esteem of those whom I held, and still hold most 
dear to me, is very grievous ; and this calamity is not les- 
sened but increased, by the thought that I have never, I 
hope, once offended you, except in those things wherein 
my everlasting salvation is concerned : and there, I dare 
call no one father or master on earth, nor subject my con- 
science to the direction of any fallible teacher. Rather 
than do this, I have chosen to cast myself upon divine pro- 
vidence, and to trust to the mercy of strangers. O my dear 
father, what a consolation would it be to me to think, that 
you had been guiltless of these my trials. Had I suffered 
by the hand of an enemy, it had been comparatively a light 
affliction. I continually pray for you, for my beloved but 
unkind sister, and for the well-meaning but misinformed 
father Albino, that you may be convinced that the Chris- 
tian religion does not authorize one person to force the 
-conscience of another. O that you did but know the value 
of that religion ! As it exists in the sacred oracles, it is 
a well-spring of life | polluted by human interpretations, 



i . 436 

and mixed with spurious traditions, it is a fountain of 
death. 

With respect to the place of my present residence, suf- 
fice it to say, that a vast ocean separates me from my dear 
and honoured parent. I do not intend to recross it. My 
wants, which, are few, I can supply by means of my indus- 
try. There is no prospect of my being married at present 
I have had many suitors ; but all of them have been desti- 
tute of the most important qualification, the fear of God. 
O my dear friends, what darkness has covered the earth, 
in consequence of the attempts of worldly men to make 
Christianity the road to^ wealth, honour, and sensual grati- 
fications. How is it that you cannot perceive that Christi- 
anity, as it is taught in the New Testament, countenances 
none of those corruptions of it which have taken place 
among worldly-minded priests, and their deluded followers, 
who suppose that gam is godliness ? 

The country in which providence has placed me, has this 
excellence above most, if not all the countries of the earth, 
— there is no national religion in it. What a blessing is this 
to the inhabitants. As t probably shall never see you again 
in this world, I pray that my dear parent and sister may 
learn their religion from the Holy Scriptures. Then I 
may hope to see them where the wicked cease from trou- 
bling, and where the weary are at rest. 

If I have not mentioned my dear brother till now, he will 
easily believe that it proceeds not from want of affection* 
The reason is, I know not where Providence has placed 
him. Permit me, Sir, to assure you, that he was ignorant 
of my intention to escape from St. Omer's. 

I live in a family where I am useful, and where I meet 
With respect. Besides working with my needle, I teach a 
boy of ten years of age Latin, and am perfecting a young 
lady in English. .1 thank you, my dear parent, for my edu- 
cation. My thanks are also due to Signior Albino, whose 
care and tenderness I shall ever remember with gratitude, 
while I shall endeavour to forget his unkindness. 

It was.my intention, when I began this letter, to conceal 



437 

the place of my residence. You cannot, however, but dis- 
cover that I am in the United States. I dare not tell you 
where I am to be found. Yet, alas, what reason have I to 
suppose that you will be anxious about it ? 

I shall continue to pray for you, and for my dear brother 
and sister, and Signior Albino, and am, what I trust I have 
ever been, My dear Father, 

Your dutiful and affectionate daughter, 
EUSEBIA NEVILLE 



LETTER XCL 
From Mr. William Neville to Mrs. Worthington. 

DEAR MADAM, 

M Y dear Mrs. Neville, my sister, and I, returned yes- 
terday from my father's estate in Northumberland. 

On Monday jast Mr. Barnwell went to dine with Major 
Ford of Monkvvell. Mrs. Barnwell, pretending to be HI 
did not accompany him. Mr, Barnwell returned late in the 
evening, and inquiring for his wife, was informed by the 
servants, that soon after he left home, Captain Dulverton 
came in a postchaise, and that their mistress told them, as 
she was poorly, she would take an airing with the Captain, 
They wondered, they said, at her taking several bundles 
with her, but thought they had no right to interfere, 
She did not forget to take the money in the house, which 
amounted to more than five hundred pounds. The groom 
was ordered by his master to pursue them, and, if he could 
gain intelligence of them, to write to him immediately, as 
he was determined, he said, to make an example of them, 
I hear he is not returned, lyir. Barnwell did not know of 
the loss of his money till the next morning. 

Mr. Clifford dined with us to day. He has seen Mr. 
Barnwell, who, he says, is more afflicted at the loss of his 
money than of his wife It was on the part of Dulverton a 
flagrant breach of hospitality, as well as of all laws human 
and divine. He was upon the most friendly terms with 
2 02 



4SS 



Mr. Barnwell, and dined at his house once of twice a week, 
He recommended himself to his notice by being what is 
termed an excellent shot, as well as a great mimic, which 
properties are a poor foundation for friendship. 

Yesterday morning Mr. Barnwell found a letter in the 
bed which appeared to have been put under the pillow. The 
contents were nearly as follow : 

" MR. RARNWELL, 

" I thought it proper on leaving you, to give you this 
c< bill of divorcement. Know then that 1 am gone forever. 
" I have made free with a little of your cash. Think your- 
" self well off : I once had an opportunity, which I am sor- 
w ry I did not embrace, of taking twice the sum. I would 
< 4 rather go a begging with a man of my choice, than live 
u in affluence with one I never loved. 55 

I cannot leave this unpleasing subject without remarking 
that a great proportion of human misery flows from the 
want of religion, and in particular, that without the fear of 
God there can be no true social bliss. 

Mr. Clifford tells me that he has never omitted going to 
Barnwell meeting since he was there with Signior Albino 
and Thomas Livingstone. I never knew, said he, till now, 
what real happiness is. The mercy of God through Jesus 
Christ is a fountain of felicity which cannot be exhausted. 

Mrs, Neville is well, and unites in best respects to you 
with, Dear Madam, 

Most sincerely yours, 

WILLIAM NEVILLE. 

LETTER XCII. 

From Mrs, Neville to Mrs. Wor 'thing ton, 

MY DEAR AUNT, 

M Y dear Mr. Neville has desired me to write to you ? 
that I may have the pleasure of sending you good tidings. 

My father dined with us to-day. As he rode by the win- 
dow I saw that he was pleased. He smiled as he came in- 
to the parlour. Mr- Neville asked him if Mrs. Barnwell 



439 



was returned, that he looked so joyful. O no, cried he, it 
is better than that. I had rather that the ten plagues of 
Egypt should have come than she. But John Wake is re- 
turned. — What, he overtook them then, and recovered 
your money ? — O no, replied he, the honest fellow could 
neither see nor hear of them. 

I cannot understand then, said Mr. Neville, what reasoa 
you have for being so joyful. 

I will tell you, answered he. When that villain Dul- 
verton came in the chaise, my wife, who had been employ- 
ed in packing up every thing valuable, that would lie in a 
little compass, called Wake to carry a box which she gave 
him, ordering him to place it under the seat of the chaise^ 
and saying that she would send some bundles to be put 
with it. As Wake was carrying the box he thought it very 
heavy, and upon shaking it heard the sound of money. It 
immediately struck him that something wrong was going 
©n ; so he set down the box in the chaise, and, when the 
chambermaid brought the bundles, put them under the 
seat. Then putting the box under his frock, he carried it 
cff without being observed. 

When he returned, continued my father, I asked him if 
he had heard any thing of Dulverton. Nothing, Sir, said 
he, though I made all the inquiry I could. I was afraid 
that all was not right ; therefore when I was putting the 
things into the chaise-box You infamous villain, cri- 
ed I, what, did you send off my property ? I beg you to get 
out of my sight. The poor fellow left the room almost in 
tears. I was immediately sorry for being in a passion, 
knowing that he was obliged to obey the commands of his 
mistress. He soon returned with the box. Sir, said he 3 
when I was putting the things into the chaise-box, I was 
afraid all was not right ; therefore putting this box under 
my frock, I carried it to your library. Taking the box from 
Wake, I broke it open, and found not only my five hundred 
pounds, but two hundred pounds besides which she had 
robbed me of at sundry times, together with watches, 
rings, and every thing of value which she could put into k« 



440 



I was never so delighted in my life. I gave the hones: 
fellow ten guineas for his prudence and fidelity, and asked 
him why he did not tell me the night I came home. As 
soon as you saw me, Sir, replied he, you ordered me to 
follow them. At that moment I forgot the box ; bur I 
thought about it all the time I was out. — My father con- 
cluded with saying, Well my friends, was I not in the 
right when I said that this was better than the return of 
Mrs. Barnwell I This question we all answered in the af- 
firmative. 

When they cannot find the box, I think the affection of 
the lovers will grow cool. But as she took some other va- 
luable articles, they may agree tolerably well for the pre- 
sent. When these are disposed of, I am firmly persuad- 
ed he will forsake her. 

Wickedness frequently meets with its reward in the 
present life. But if vengeance tarry, and seem to sleep, 
the time is coming when it will certainly awake, to the 
everlasting confusion of all those who habitually say, 
;< God hath forgotten ; he hideth his face ; he will never 
see it." Such persons are as much the objects of pity, as 
their crimes are of detestation. How miserable must this 
unhappy woman be, without money, without a character, 
without humility to enable her to be content with little, 
without the consolation of believing that she suffers in the 
cause of righteousness, and, which is worst of all, without 
a God to fly to for refuge, or a just hope that any thing 
will turn up in her favour either here or hereafter. The 
poor used to be the objects of her contempt: but whom 
upon the face of the earth can she now find more poor and 
wretched than herself? She thought that her schemes were 
so well concerted that nothing could overturn them, or she 
would not have had the insolence to write such a letter as 
she did, to a man who had not merely taken her without a 
fortune, but who had paid her debts. 

We all unite in kind respects to my dear aunt. 

I ever remain her affectionate niece, 

MIRANDA NEVILLE, 



441 



LETTER XCIII. 
From Mrs. Neville to Mrs. Worthingi&ri. 

DEAR MADAM; 

YESTERDAY being Mr. Neville's birthday, my father, 
Mr. Clifford, and Dr. Mildmay, were invited to dinner. 
About one o'clock, as we were all sitting in the parlour which 
looks into the court, we heard a carriage drive in. I could 
not imagine who was come, as our friends who had been 
invited were arrived. Looking through the window I saw 
our dear Eusebia, accompanied by another young lady. 
At that instant there was a general cry that Eusebia was 
come. In a moment we were ail in the court to welcome 
her return. What a tender and affecting meeting it was 
may be more easily conceived than related. Her father 
clasped her to his bosom, and wept over her, at the same 
time blessing God that he had lived to see so joyful a day. 
This meeting was so unexpected, and so welcome, that 
every one present shed tears of joy. We all asked ques- 
tions at the same moment. Mr. Clifford, Where she had 
left his son ? Mr. William Neville, How Mr. Bethune and 
family did? Mr. Neville, Whether she had had a good 
voyage, and where she landed? And I, Whether this 
young lady was not Miss Levi ? Miss Neville could not 
speak. In her there was such a conflict between remorse 
and joy, that she could only fall on her dear sister's neck ; 
— they both wept and embraced each other ; — the sight 
was truly affecting. Nor was Signior Albino less affect- 
ed: he blessed God that he had permitted him again to 
behold his dear young lady. She replied to all at once, I 
thank God for his goodness to me, and to all my dear 
friends. 

This tumult of the passions shortly subsided ; and, when 
we were all seated, she told us, that having been accident- 
ally informed at New-York of the great mercy which God 



442 



had shown to her dear father and Signior Albino, and of 
her brother's marriage, that England to which she had be- 
fore determined never to return, became the object of her 
continual desire. I therefore, continued she, told my kind 
friends Mr. and Mrs. Levi, and my dear sister, (taking hold 
of the young lady's hand,) that I must go to England. 

We all congratulated Miss Levi on her safe arrival 
among us ; and my father said, that next to his own Euse- 
bia, no person could have arrived whom he should have 
been more happy to see. Miss Levi replied, that the 
friends of her beloved sister could not but be dear to her, 
and that her parents desired their kind respects to the fa- 
mily of her friend. 

Dinner being announced, we went into the dining-room, 
and Mr. Neville remarked that this was the happiest birth- 
day he had ever seen ; and that God having in great mer- 
cy restored his child to him as it were from the dead, he 
could now die in peace. 

As Eusebia had not answered Mr. Clifford's question 
concerning his son, Mr. Neville repeated the inquiry ; but 
we found that she had left New- York before his arrival. 

The servants did not partake last nor least in the gene- 
ral joy. No sooner likewise was it known that our dear 
Eusebia was arrived, than the bells of the village church 
began to ring ; and last night all the windows in Thornton 
were illuminated. Mr. Neville has always had at heart 
the interest of his tenants and of the poor, and is by all of 
them greatly beloved. 

The company broke up ; but my father, Mr. Clifford, 
and Dr. Mildmay, repeated their visit this morning. 

Eusebia presents her kind respects to you, and desires 
me to say, that as soon as she shall have recovered from 
the fatigue of her journey you shall hear from her, 
I am, my dear aunt, 

Your dutiful niece, 

MIRANDA NEVILLE 



443 



LETTER XCIV. 
From Miss Eusebia Nexnlle to Mrs. Worthington. 

DEAR MADAM, 

I BE ESS God that I am again in my father's house, and 
that I am writing to my dear Mrs. Worthington from my 
own closet, not as formerly with fear and trembling, but 
with the full consent and approbation of my family. These 
are great mercies ; but I hope I shall not forget, that the 
dangers attending prosperity are far greater than those 
which attend adversity. 

My last letter, Madam, informed you of ir.y being at 
Mrs. Bethune's, with Mrs. Levi and her daughter. We 
enjoyed much pleasure in this valuable family, and were 
greatly edified by their conversation and example. I was 
delightfully situated, and I enjoyed much happiness. In 
numerous excursions two or three miles round with my 
young friends, I pointed out to them the wisdom of God 
in the works of creation ; and while we admired the fruit- 
ful country around us, and the charming prospects of the 
sea and Long-Island at a distance, I conversed with them 
concerning the important truths of divine revelation. 

On the Lord's day Mr. Bethune conducted the worship 
of God in a neat building which had been erected for the 
purpose. Most of the people in the neighbourhood at- 
tended, and some from a considerable distance. 

One day Mr. and Mrs. Bethune and Mrs. Levi returned 
from a walk, accompanied by a Jewish merchant, who had 
known Mr. and Mrs. Levi in Holland. He dined, and spent 
the afternoon with us. He attacked Mr. Bethune upon 
the subject of the trinity. 

Pray, Sir, said he, how do you understand these words, 
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, 
and the Word was God ? Did not the writer believe that 
there were at least two Gods, one of whom was with the 
other ? Did not Jesus intimate the same thing when he 



444 



said, Father, glorify thou vie with thine own self, with t he- 
glory which I had with thee before the world was ? And do 
not Christians, in consequence of this manner of speaking, 
plead for the eternity of the-Son, as well as of the Father 
and of the holy Spirit \ 

Mr. Bethune. You have no more right to attribute the 
belief of two Gods to John or Jesus, than to Moses and the 
prophets. Moses often gives the name of Jehovah to the 
Angel of the Lord, and the prophets ascribe divine names 
and characters to the Messiah. This implies a plurality 
of persons in the divine essence, but not a plurality of 
Gods. 

Jew. How can these things be ? 

Mr, B, God can be comprehended by himself only. 
None by searching can find him out. We see his natural 
perfections in his works, and his moral perfections in his 
providence and his word. Beyond this neither angel nor 
man can go. If the New Testament maintain the unity 
of God, and yet sometimes speak as though in the divine 
essence there were more persons than one, the Old Tes- 
tament does the same : you have, therefore, no ground of 
objection on this score to the one which is not equally ap- 
plicable to the other. 

Jew. Pray what do you mean by a plurality of persons 
in the divine essence ? A person signifies a being distinct 
from all other beings. If this was not the case with Jesus, 
he was not a person at all, according to the common ac- 
ceptation of the word. 

Mr. B. The term person is used in different senses. As 
applied to the sacred Three, it is not used according to its 
common acceptation. Three human persons are three 
beings: the three divine Persons are only one Being. I 
do not maintain the personality of the Father, Son, and 
Spirit, in such a sense as infringes upon the unity of the 
divine essence. 

Jew, In what sense. Sir, do you understand it? 

Mr. B. Vq confess the truth, my ideas upon this subject 
are not clear and distinct* This is owing not to the false = 



445 



hood of the doctrine of the trinity ; of the truth of that 
doctrine I am fully convinced ; — but to that incomprehen- 
sibility which attends all the attributes, operations, and de- 
signs of the Deity, as well as to his having made only a 
partial revelation of it, which is the case also with respect 
to the mysteries of providence, for the .exercise of our 
humble and submissive faith. Yet I think it right to inves- 
tigate, with religious humility, every part of divine revela- 
tion, and therefore the nature of the personality of the 
three divine Persons. In this inquiry, although I eannot 
attain to a full comprehension of the subject, yet by two 
different restraints I am kept from error. As by one re- 
straint a planet is kept from failing into the sun, and by 
another from wandering into the boundless regions of 
space ; so my belief of the unity of God, and of the doc- 
trine of the trinity, restrains me from holding either doc- 
trine in such a sense as is incompatible with my belief of 
the other. If I begin to deviate towards the common ac- 
ceptation of the word person, my belief of the divine uni- 
ty recalls me to the path in which I ought to move ; or if, 
in maintaining the doctrine of the divine unity, I find my- 
self wandering from the doctrine of the trinity, those pas- 
sages of scripture which you have mentioned cause me to 
return the way by which I came. 

Mrs. Levi closed the conversation by saying, I wish, Sir,, 
you would read the Christian Scriptures. The morality of 
the New Testament, like that of the Old, is beyond all 
praise. And the Christian Messiah is the very Messiah 
that was predicted by the prophets. To receive him, 
therefore, cannot but be safe, while to reject him must be 
infinitely dangerous 

Mr. Charles Clifford has powerful advocates in my 
friends at Thornton, and in you also, Madam, as I perceive 
by those letters in which you mention him. I cannot tell 
what is the design of Providence. He has certainly given 
more than common proofs of his esteem for me, of which 
I entertain a grateful sense. But, God only knows. I may 
never see him any more. Although I have providentially 

2P 



446 



been preserved twice in crossing that great ocean, yet it 
cannot be said that so long a voyage is attended with no 
danger. I pray that he may be preserved, and the more 
so, as I have been the occasion, though the innocent one, 
of his running these hazards. 

I am, dear Madam, 

Your sincere friend, 

And very humble servant, 

EUSEBIA NEVILLE, 



LETTER XCV. 

From Mrs. Neville to Jtfrs, IVorthington. 

MY DEAR AUNT, 

]VXy father dined with us yesterday, as did also Mr. Clif- 
ford. The former gave us an account of his wife ; the lat- 
ter of his son, from whom he has received a letter relating 
that he had a very pleasant voyage to Boston, and how 
greatly he was disappointed when he did not find his Euse- 
bia at New- York. 

The box containing the treasure was not missed till Cap- 
tain Dulverton and Mrs. Barnwell arrived in London at the 
inn ; for, as the captain had undertaken to see the luggage 
shifted at the end of every stage, she entertained no doubt 
respecting the safety of the box ; and he, having never 
seen it, could not miss it. When, ho v.- ever, it was missed, 
there was no small bustle. She was positive they had been 
robbed of it on the road, since she saw Vv'ake, she said, 
put it into the chaise, than whom there was not an honest- 
er man in the world. He, on the other hand, was as posi- 
tive that there was nothing which resembled either box or 
trunk when they arrived at the first stage ; so that it was 
unnecessary to return and inquire about it, as she wanted 
him to do. This was a tragical beginning. 

He had told her that an uncle who had resided in Kent 
was dead, and left him a noble house and a good estate. 



447 

The plan which they had formed was, to spend a couple of 
months in London, and then to go and take possession of 
the estate, and live happily together till the death of my 
father, when he was to make her his wife. They had not 
been above a fortnight at ready-furnished lodgings in Co- 
vent Garden, for the benefit of being near the playhouses, 
before the cash ran short, in consequence of which she 
teased him daily, and almost hourly, to go and take pos- 
session of his estate, judiciously observing that it would 
be disgraceful to borrow money of their tenants at their 
first arrival among them. After much alternation, he told 
her in plain terms, that the estate in Kent was not so large 
but that it would go into the box which she pretended to 
have lost ; and added, that they had outwitted each other. 
This confession was followed by mutual reproaches ; and 
the most vulgar epithets were not sparingly used. The 
next morning he arose sooner than usual. Mrs. B. waited 
for him at breakfast, and, at length, becoming impatient, 
was told by the mistress of the house that the gentleman 
had paid for his lodgings about an hour before, and was 
gone with a porter whom he had brought to remove his 
things. She immediately trembled for her clothes, which, 
as she foreboded, he had actually taken away. In this dis- 
tress, without a shilling, and without any other clothes 
than those on her back, I am informed that she applied to 
you, Madam, for the loan of a guinea, and that you gave 
her two, upon her promising to set off the next morning 
for Barnwell. 

All this Mr. Pink told my father, at the same time ob- 
serving how oitterly she repented : and although he did 
not directly ask him to take her again, he said that he had 
no doubt this would be a warning to her ; that he had of- 
ten heard her say how much she esteemed Mr. Barnwell ; 
and that she considered the moment when she first saw 
the captain as the most unhappy in her life. My father 
told him that she should never enter his walls any more, 
-at the same time showing him her insolent letter. Mr 
Pink made no other reply than that he was very sorry. 



448 



It was evening when she arrived from London. Her 
father, seeing her through the window, locked the door, 
and would not suffer her to be admitted. She then went 
to three of my father's tenants, all of whom told her that 
they could not think of incurring Mr. Barnwell's displea- 
sure by harbouring a person who had used him so ill. At 
last she went to the house of poor old Edward Sutton the 
thrasher, where she was permitted to sit up all night. This 
man is a hearer of Mr, Lowe. He went in the morning 
to that good man, and in treated him to intercede with Mr. 
Pink in behalf of his daughter. Mr. Lowe readily under- 
took the task, and succeeded ; so that she is now with her 
father and sister. 

W e are all very much pleased with Miss Levi. She is 
an amiable young lady. She said this morning while we 
were at breakfast, Our people have often attacked my fa- 
ther on account of our becoming Christians, telling him 
what wicked lives many Christians lead. My father re- 
plies, Are there not many wicked Jews ? Were not the 
children of Israel who came out of Egypt very wicked ? 
Real Christians worship and serve that God whom Abra- 
ham worshipped and served. They delight in the writings 
of Moses, and revere his character. No pious Jew ever 
loved our Scriptures more than they do. It is not every 
one who calls himself a Christian, that is a true Christian. 
True Christians fear and love the God of the Jews : sure- 
ly then God cannot but love them. If they are the follow- 
ers of Jesus Christ, it is because they believe him to be 
the Messiah predicted by the prophets. 

We all unite in sincere respects to you. 

I am, my dear aunt, your dutiful niece, 

MIRANDA NEVILLE. 

LETTER XCVI. 

From Mrs. Seville to Mrs. Worthington, 

MY DEAR AUNT, 

VV^E dined yesterday at Mr. Clifford's. 

On Mr. Clifford's saying that his son was very much. 



449 



pleased with America, and that he was very desirous that 
we should all go to live there, Miss Levi exclaimed, Oh, 
how greatly I should rejoice if that were to be the case : 
it would also afford inexpressible pleasure to my dear pa- 
rents, and to Mr. and Mrs. Bethune. 

My dear Miss Levi, replied Eusebia, to live near such 
highly beloved friends would afford me equal pleasure : 
but the leaving; of our country is a matter of serious con- 
cern. What do you say to it, my dear father ? 

I am too far advanced in lite, answered Mr. Neville, to 
take such a voyage. Besides, if I were there, I should 
never think myself at home ; so great is the attachment 
which I feel to the Jand of my nativity, and to that part of 
it in particular in which I spent the years of childhood and 
of youth. I think also that, on many accounts, it would be 
wrong for us to leave our country. 

To this we all assented. 

Just as we were going to tea, a carriage drove into the 
court. Our dear Eusebia and I were near the window, 
and saw Mr. Charles Clifford stepping out of a postchaise. 
This sudden and unexpected appearance of a person whom 
Eusebia considered as her partner through life, and for 
whom she had a great esteem, overpowered her spirits. 
Seeing the colour leave her face, I hurried her into another 
room before he came in, and, by applying hartshorn and a 
little cold water, prevented her from swooning He soon 
learned where she was, and came to pay his respects. I 
left them together, after he had told us that he had had a 
very disagreeable passage. 

At the entreaty of his friends in America, he had al- 
most determined to stay with them through the winter ; 
but hearing that a vessel was to sail immediately from Bos- 
ton to Bristol, he could not resist the desire he had to see 
Eusebia. During part of the voyage there was considera- 
ble danger ; but he was supported by reading and medi- 
tating upon the 107th psalm. He reflected that he was in 
the Lord's hand, and that no real evil could befell him while 
he made God his refuse. 



43 ^ 



My clear aunt, we begin to be very impatient for you to 
visit us. It will give us very great pleasure. But it would 
give us much greater if you would come and reside among 
us. Pray be so kind as to consider of it seriously. I hope 
and believe it would be for our mutual happiness. There 
is a pleasant house in Thornton unoccupied. But if it 
should be equally agreeable to you to reside at the Abbey, 
we have plenty of room. When we were lately talking 
about it, Mr. Neville remarked, that the society of the 
friends of the Redeemer is the greatest blessing which can 
be enjoyed in the present life. One misfortune would be, 
— the breaking up of our correspondence ; but almost eve- 
ry earthly good has its alley. 

Mr. Charles Clifford unites with all my friends in kind- 
est respects to you. 

I am, my dear aunt, 

Your affectionate niece, 

MIRANDA NEVILLE. 

p. S. Mr. C. C. has brought some letters from Mr. and 
Mrs. Levi, and Mr. Bethune, which have afforded us equal 
pleasure and instruction. 

LETTER XCVII. 
From Mrs. WoftUftgim to Mrs. Xeville. 

MY DEAR NIECE, 

I CONGRATULATE you and all my good friends at 
the Abbey on the arrival of Mr. Clifford; Should a union 
take place between him and Miss Eusebia Neville, I hope 
they will be happy. Marrying in the Lord is the best se- 
curity for mutual happiness. It is safe, however, for Chris- 
ti ns'not to expect too much happiness in the married 
state: it rather becomes them to lay their account with 
finding some imperfections in those with whom they are 
united, who will in their turn find some imperfections in 

them. . . . 

I am very much obliged to my friends for their innta- 



451 



tlon. I think it would increase my happiness to reside 
near those whom I so greatly esteem i and I intend, with 
the divine permission, to take measures for my removal. 
It is my intention to pay you a visit at the Abbey, and there 
to come to a determination whether to reside with you, or 
at the house you mention at Thornton. 

I am truly sorry for Mrs. Barnwell I gave her the best 
advice in my power. I exhorted her, as there was little 
probability that she would derive much more happiness 
from the things of time, to seek her consolation in the 
things of eternity. I remembered that our Lord did not 
despise the outcasts of mankind. She was very thankful 
for my advice, and for the trifle which I gave her, and shed 
many tears. Whether her sorrow w r as on account of her 
guilt, or of her punishment, is best known to herself. 

Miss Levi's wish to have her friends near her was very 
natural, and proceeded from the best of motives ; but I 
cannot advise you to leave your native country. Europe 
is undoubtedly in a disagreeable situation, and I do not say 
that it is impossible for great evils to befall this kingdom. 
It must also be admitted, that in times of public calamity, 
God frequently permits the righteous to fall indiscriminate- 
ly with the wicked : it ought not therefore to be expected 
that they should be without fear. Yet I am persuaded 
that, in a day of general distress, my God would either 
preserve me from the hurtful sword, or give me fortitude, 
and resignation to his will. We have not a high priest 
who cannot be touched with a feeling of our infirmities : 
let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that 
we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of 
need. 

The vessel is indeed in a storm ; but the Redeemer is 
in it ; and many thousands of his friends are embarked 
with him, who weep in secret on account of the sins of the 
nation, and of their own personal transgressions. Who 
can tell but the Hope of Israel, who bestows upon his peo- 
ple the pardon of their sins, and who has promised that he 
will never leave them nor forsake them, will also hear, in 



45% 

heaven his dwelling-place? their prayers for the present 
tion of their country ? 

Remember me affectionately to my kind friends 
Thornton Abbey. I ever remain? 

My dear niece, 

Affectionately yours, 

MAHYWORTHINGTON 

LETTER XCVIII. 

From Mr. Levi to JWiss Levi, 

MY DEAREST SOPHIA, 

You R mother and I remained on the wharf, and pursu- 
ed the vessel with our sight till it was no longer visible, 
From that time you have been continually upon our heart ; 
every thing reminds us of you ; and it is our prayer day 
and night that our beloved daughter may be preserved from 
all evil, and may be the object of the gracious regard of 
©ur heavenly Father. 

Till we had parted with you, we did not know how much 
we loved you. At some times your mother almost regrets 
that she consented to your leaving us, till I remind her 
that you are under the care of your dear sister, and that, 
under her kind tuition, you will enjoy every advantage 
that can be desired for improvement, both in human ac- 
complishments and in Christian graces. 

Since you left us, I have been much employed in read- 
ing the prophecies concerning the Messiah. I will select, 
and send some of them in this letter ; for although it is a 
subject in which we have endeavoured to the utmost of 
our ability to instruct you, the importance of it is such that 
you cannot be too well established in it. 

This exalted Personage was predicted to Adam under 
the name of ' the Seed of the Woman. 5 Also the enmity 
of unbelievers against him ; 1 I will put enmity between 
thy seed and her seed — his crucifixion ; ' thou shalt 
bruise his heel,' (his human nature ;) but yet his final vic- 
tory ; < it shall bruise thy head," Gen. hi. 15, 



453 



He was to descend from Abraham, Gen. xxii. 18 ; and 
from Jacob, G»n. xxviii. 14. 

Jacob prophesied of him on his death-bed. Gen. xlix. 
10. 

Moses prophesied, that God would raise up a prophet 
from among their brethren like unto him ; and that who- 
soever would not hearken unto him, God would require it 
of him, Deut. xviii. 18. It is added, probably by Ezra, 
6 There arose not a prophet since in Israel like unto Mo- 
ses,' ch. xxxiv. 10. This honour was reserved for the 
Messiah. 

He was to be of the seed of David. i Once have I 
sworn by my holiness, that I will not lie unto David. His 
seed shall endure for ever, and his throne as the sun^be- 
fore me/ Ps. Ixxxix. 35, 35. 

Solomon was a type of Christ, and many things are said 
of him in the 7 2d psalm which will apply in their full 
sense only to the Messiah ; among others the following: 
& They shall fear thee as long as the sun and moon en* 
dure, throughout all generations. — All kings shall fall 
down before him : all nations shall serve him. — -His name 
shall endure for ever : his name shall be continued as long 
as the sun : and men shall be blessed in him : all nations 
shall call him blessed.' 

In the days of Isaiah this descendant of David was not 
come, for he thus prophecies concerning him — 6 And 
there shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse, and 
a branch shall grow out of his roots. And the Spirit of the 
Lord shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and under- 
standing, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of 
knowledge and of the fear of the Lord; and shall make 
him of quick understanding in the fear of the Lord : and he 
shall not judge after the sight of his eyes, neither reprove 
after the hearing of his ears ; but with righteousness shall 
he judge the poor, and reprove with equity for the meek 
of the earth ; and he shall smite the earth with the rod of 
his mouth, and with the breath of his lips shall he slay the 
wicked. And righteousness shall be the girdle of his loins, 
and faithfulness the girdle of his reins.' — The prophet pro" 



454 



ceeds to show, that the subjects of this excellent prince 
should be persons renewed in the spirit of their mind. 
< The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard 
shall lie down with the kid ; and the calf, and the young 
lion, and the fading together ; and a little child shall lead 
them. And the cow and the bear shall feed ; their young 
ones shall lie down together ; and the lion shall eat straw- 
like the ox. And the sucking child shall play on the hole 
of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the 
cockatrice's den. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my 
holy mountain ; for the earth shall be full of the know- 
ledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea. And in 
that day there shall be a root of Jesse, which shall stand for 
an ensign of the people ; to it shall the Gentiles seek, 
and* his rest shall be glorious, 5 Isai. xi. 1 — 10. — Again. 
-* Unto us a child is born, (called, chap. viii. 14. and vii.*8. 
Immanuel, or God with us,) unto us a son is given ; and 
the government shall be upon his shoulder ; and his name 
shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The Mighty God, 
The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace. Of the 
increase of his government and peace there shall be no 
end, upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to 
order it, and to establish it with judgment and with justice, 
from henceforth even for ever, ch. ix. 6, 7. 

Though the kingdom of the Messiah was to be a king- 
dom of peace, yet was he to be a great conqueror. i Gird 
thy sword upon thy thigh, O most Mighty, with thy glory 
and thy majesty. And in thy majesty ride prosperously 
because of truth, and meekness, and righteousness; and 
thy right hand shall teach thee terrible things. Thine ar- 
rows are sharp in the heart of the king's enemies, whereby 
the people fail under thee. Thy throne, O God, is for ever 
and ever : the sceptre of thy kingdom is a right sceptre*. 
Thou lovest righteousness, and hatest wickedness : there- 
fore God, thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of glad- 
ness above thy fellows,' Ps. xlv. 3 — 7. 

He was to be not only the son of David, but the Son of 
God. 6 I will declare the decree ; the Lord hath said unto 
me, Tho u art my Son, this clay have I begotten thee. A^k 



455 



of me, and I shall give thee the heathen for thine inherl* 
tance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy posses- 
sion, 5 Ps. ii. 7, 8. Well therefore might the apostle as- 
sert his superiority to the angels, and say that i he hath by 
inheritance obtained a more excellent name than they.' 
Heb. i. 4. It was cn this account that David in spirit 
called him Lord, saying, 6 The Lord said unto my Lord* 
Sit thou at my right hand, until I make thine enemies thy 
footstool,' Ps ex. 1. 

As the Jehovah-Angel who appeared to our fathers was 
frequently called Jehovah, by the same name was the 
Messiah to be called. 4 Behold, the days come, saith the 
Lord, that I will raise unto David a righteous branch, and 
m king shall reign and prosper, and shall execute judg- 
ment and justice in the earth. In his days Judah shall be 
saved, and Israel shall dwell safely : and this is his name 
whereby he shall be called, jehovah our righteous- 
ness,' Jer. xxiii. 5, 6. 

The time of the Messiah's advent was predicted. 

1. It was to be while the second temple was standing. 
The ancient men who had seen the first temple, wept 
when the foundation of the second was laid. But the pro- 
phet said unto them, < Fear ye not ; for thus saith the 
Lord of hosts, Yet once it is a little while> and I will shake 
the heavens, and the earth, and the sea, and the dry land ; 
and I will shake all nations, and the desire of all nations 
shall come ; and I will fill this house with glory, saith the 
Lord of hosts. The silver is mine, and the gold is mine, 
saith the Lord of hosts : The glory of this latter house 
shall be greater than of the former, saith the Lord of 
hosts : and in this place will I give peace, saith the Lord 
of hosts,' Hag. ii. 5. 9. 

2. It was to be before the departure of the sceptre from 
Judah. < The sceptre shall not depart from Judah, nor a 
lawgiver from between his feet, until Shiloh come ; and 
unto him shall the gathering of the people be,' Gen. xlix. 
10. There were various steps by which it departed. One 
was, the going forth of the decree from Csesar Augustus 
that the whole land should be taxed Luke ii. . Another 



456 



was, when the Romans took into their hands the power of 
inflicting capital punishment. But the sceptre did not en- 
tirely depart till the time of V espasian, when the Romans 
took away both our place and nation. 

3. It was to be before we had lost the knowledge of our 
tribes ; otherwise the Messiah would not have been point- 
ed out to us as being of the tribe of Judah and of the seed 
of David. 

4. The very year was predicted. ' Seventy weeks, (or 
490 years,) are determined upon thy people, and upon thy 
holy city, to finish the transgression, and to make an end 
of sins, and to make reconciliation for iniquity, and to bring 
in everlasting righteousness, and to seal up the vision and 
prophecy, and to anoint the most holy,' Dan. ix. 24. These 
seventy weeks are divided into three periods. During the 
first, the work of restoration and reformation was carried 
on by Ezra and Nehemiah ; the second reaches to the com- 
mencement of the ministry of John ; and the third extends 
to the death of Messiah the prince. 

A herald was to go before him. 4 The voice of him that 
crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of Jehovah, 
make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every 
valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall 
be made low ; and the crooked shall be made straight, and 
the rough places plain ; and the glory of the Lord shall be 
revealed, and all flesh shall see it together,' isa/.xl. 3. 5. — 
Again. £ Behold, I will send my messenger, and he shall 
prepare the way before me : and Jehovah : whom ye seek, 
shall suddenly come to his temple, even the Angel of the 
covenant whom ye delight in ; behold, he shall come, saith 
the Lord of hosts,' Mai. iii. 1. This harbinger of the 
Messiah is also called Elijah. 4 Bdhold, I will send you 
Elijah the prophet, before the coming of the great and 
dreadful day of Jehovah. And be shall, turn the heart of 
the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children 
to their fathers, lest 1 come and smite the earth with a 
curse,' MaL iv. 5- 6. These prophecies were acccomplish- 
ed in the person of John the baptist, who came in the spirit 



457 



and power of Elijah, and who said, I am the voice of one 
crying in the wilderness, Make straight the way of Jeho- 
vah, as said the prophet Isaiah. He acknowledged that he 
was not the Messiah, but said that he was sent before him. 
He did not claim to be the bridegroom : he was the friend 
of the bridegroom, who stood and heard him, and rejoiced 
greatly because of the bridegroom's \oice. It was no small 
honour, however, to be the morning star of the gospel dis- 
pensation ; and it was not without reason that the angel 
said to Zacharias, < Thou shalt have joy and gladness, and 
many shall rejoice at his birth,' Luke i. 14. 

The place of the Messiah's nativity was to be Bethlehem. 
i But thou, Bethlehem Ephratah, though thou be little 
among the thousands of Judah, yet out of thee shall he come 
forth unto me that is to be ruler in Israel ; whose goings 
forth have been from of old, from everlasting,' Mic. v. 2. — 
The paraphrases written by our ancestors interpret this 
prophecy to mean, that the Messiah was to be born at 
Bethlehem. Our nation so understood it ; for the chief' 
priests and scribes, being asked where the Messiah should 
be born, replied, In Bethlehem of Judah, and quoted this 
very prophecy. 

He was not to come with external grandeur. ' He shall 
grow up before him,' says the prophet, 'asa tender plant, 
and as a root out of a dry ground : he hath no form nor 
comeliness ; and when we shall see him, there is no beau- 
ty that we should desire him,' Isai. liii. 2. — At the birth of 
Christ, the descendants of David were in a state of poverty. 
His mother offered the sacrifice of the poor ; and He whose 
birth was announced by a multitude of the heavenly host, 
w T as laid in a manger because there was no room for him in 
the inn. 

There were, however, to be some who would expect his 
appearance, and say, ' Lo, this is our God ; we have waited 
for him, and he will save us : this is the Lord ; we have 
waited for him ; we will be glad and rejoice in his salva- 
tion,' Isai, xxv. 9. — Accordingly there was a Simeon, who 
c took him up in his arms, and blessed God,!fnd said, LorcK 

2 Q 



458 



now Idlest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to 
thy word. For mine eyes have seen thy salvation ; which 
thou hast prepared before the face of all people : a light to 
lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel.* 
There was also an Anna, who 4 gave thanks unto the Lord, 
and spake of him to all them that looked for redemption in 
Jerusalem.' And although he came unto his own, and his 
own received him not, yet the gentile world sent as it were 
ambassadors to congratulate him on his arrival. s They 
from Sheba came : they brought gold and incense, and 
showed forth the praises of the Lord,' Isai. lx. 6. 

The enmity of the seed of the serpent was soon visible. 
Herod, that he might destroy the infant Messiah, slew all 
the children that were in Bethlehem, and in its vicinity, 
from two years old and under. Ramah participated in this 
calamity ; and Rachel, who was buried near it, is supposed 
to rise from her grave, and in the beautiful language of 
prophecy, to weep a second time for her children : the 
first time was when they were carried into captivity by the 
general of the king of Babylon. See Jei\ xl. 1. At each 
time ' a voice was heard in Ramah, lamentation and bit- 
ter weeping : Rachel, weeping for her children, refused 
to be comforted for her children, because they were not,' 
Jer. xxxi. 15. To avoid the fury of Herod, Joseph and 
Mary took the young child and fled into Egypt ; but after 
the death of Herod they returned, and 4 out of Egypt,' a 
second time, 4 God called his Son,' Has. xi. 1. The om- 
niscience of the Deity is displayed in his causing the in- 
spired writers to use such language as refers to events in 
distant ages, and the full meaning of which is not known 
until the latter events take place. We see another instance 
of this in the first four verses of the 72d psalm. 4 Give 
the king thy judgments, O God, and thy righteousness un- 
to the king's son. He shall judge thy people with righte- 
ousness* and thy poor with judgment. The mountains 
shall bring peace to the people, and the little hills, by 
righteousness. He shall judge the poor of the people ; he 
shall save the children of the needy, and shall break in 



459 



pieces the oppressor.' Though these words refer imme- 
diately to Solomon, they look forward to the Messiah, in 
whom they were more fully accomplished. This appears 
from the fifth verse, < They shall fear thee as long as the 
sun and moon endure, throughout all generations — in 
which language the inspired writer was carried beyond the 
type, and spake what would agree only to the antitype. 
Numerous instances of this double sense of prophecy may 
be observed by an attentive reader of the Jewish Scrip- 
tures. 

After their return from Egypt, they dwelt in Nazareth, 
which was esteemed so contemptible a place, that it fur- 
nished the enemies of Jesus with matter for reproach, and 
thousands who could say nothing worse of him have called 
him the Nazarene. The old Testament abounds with 
prophecies of the obloquy that would be cast upon the 
Messiah : among others, see Ps. xxii. 6. 4 But I am a 
worm, and no man ; a reproach of men, and despised of 
the people.' These prophecies referred to all the reproach 
which he w r as to endure : but the evangelist singles out 
his being called a Nazarene as a direct fulfilment of them ; 
saying, that i he came and dwelt in a city called Nazareth, 
that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophets, 
He shall be called a Nazarene,' Matt. ii. 23. 

Having lived many years in obscurity, he entered on his 
public ministry. Isaiah, after he had prophesied concern- 
ing his forerunner who was to cry in the wilderness, im- 
mediately proceeds to this event. < O Zion, that bringest 
good tidings, get thee up into the high mountain ; O Je- 
rusalem, that bringest good tidings, lift up thy voice with 
strength; lift it up, be not afraid ; say unto the cities of 
Judah, Behold your God ! Behold, the Lord God will come 
with strong hand, and his arm shall rule for him : behold, 
his reward is with him, and his work before him,' Jsai. xl. 
9, 10. 

In the prospect of the same event, the prophet Malachi 
also says, 6 But who may abide the day of his coming ? and 
who shall stand when he appeareth ? for he is like a refi- 



460 



Tier's fire, and like fuller's soap ; and he shali sit as a refi- 
ner and purifier of silver ; and he shall purify the sons of 
Levi, and purge them as gold and silver, that they may of- 
fer unto the Lord an offering* in righteousness,' Mat iii. 2, 
3. — This prophecy was fulfilled in Jesus. ' And now also 
the axe is laid unto the root of the trees : therefore every 
tree which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down and 
cast into the fire. I indeed baptize you with water unto 
repentance ; but he that cometh after me is mightier than 
I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear : he shall baptize 
you with the Holy Ghost, and with fire. Whose fan is in 
his hand, and he will thoroughly purge his floor, and ga- 
ther his wheat into the garner ; but he will burn up the 
chaff with unquenchable fire,' Matt. iii. 10. 12. Though 
he had to combat with the most crafty adversaries, they 
could not abicie the day of his coming ; for he discerned 
their hearts, and knew their thoughts, Matt. ix. 4. xii. 25. 
Luke v. 22 : He confounded them, and put them to silence, 
Matt. xxi. 27. Mark xii. 37. Luke xx. 26 : And they were 
afraid to ask him any more questions, Matt. xxii. 46. His 
purifying the sons of Levi was fulfilled, when a great com* 
pany of the priests were obedient to the faith, Acts vi. 7. 

The Messiah was also to reprove with equity for the 
meek of the earth, Isai. xi. 4. — This our Lord did at dif- 
ferent times. See particularly Matt. xii. 7, where he jus- 
tifies his disciples against the accusation of the Pharisees, 
and reproves their reprovers. c If,' said he, 1 ye had 
known what this meaneth, I will have mercy and not sacri- 
fice, ye would not have condemned the guiltless.' 

Upon Galilee of the Gentiles a great light was to arise. 
Isai. ix. 1, 2. — This was fulfilled. < And leaving Nazareth, 
J ne and dwelt in Capernaum, which is upon the sea= 
- the borders of Zabulon and Nepthalim ; that it 
nuglit ur* Vinlled which was spoken by Esaiasthe prophet) 
saying, l he land of Zabulon, and the land of Nepthalim, 
by the way of the sea, beyond Jordan, Galilee of the gen- 
tiles ; the people which sat in darkness saw a great light; 
and to them which sat in the region and shadow of de^tl; 
light is sprung up/ Matt. iv. 1 3, 16, 



461 



The Messiah was to be zealous for the divine honour. 
* The zeal of thy house hath eaten me up; and the re- 
proaches of them that reproached thee are fallen upon me,* 
Ps. lxix. 9. — This prophecy was fulfilled In Jesus. He 
4 found in the temple those that sold oxen, and sheep, and 
doves, and the changers of money sitting ; and when he 
had made a scourge of small cords, he drove them all out 
of the temple, and said, Take these things hence, make 
not my Father's house a house of merchandise,' John, ii. 
14. 16. 

He was to work miracles. ( Behold, the Lord God will 
come with strong hand, and his arm shall rule for him : 
behold, his reward is frith him, and his work before him,' 
Isia. xl. 10. Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, 
and the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped. Then shall 
the lame man leap as a hart, and the tongue of the dumb 
sing ; for in the wilderness shall waters break out, and 
streams in the desert,' Isai. xxxv. 5, 6, — To those who 
came from John, desiring to know whether Jesus was the 
Messiah, he refused a direct answer, but appealed to fact?, 
saying, ' Go your way, and tell John what things ye have 
seen and heard ; how that the blind see, the lame walk, the 
lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, to 
the poor the gospel is preached,' Luke vii 22. The 
preaching of the gospel to the poor is the concluding part 
of the answer, as it was the crowning work of Christ, and 
that to which all the others were subservient ; and corres- 
ponds to waters breaking cut in the wilderness, and streams 
in the desert. 

He was to be free from ostentation. 6 He shall not cry, 
nor lift up, nor cause his voice to be heard in the street,' 
Isai. xiii 2. — Many instances ofHhe modesty of the Re- 
deemer are recorded by the evangelists. See Mark i. 44. 
iii. 12. v. 43. vii. 36. Luke viii. 56. He also recommend- 
ed humility to his disciples ' Take my yoke upon you, 
and learn of me ; for I am meek and lowly in heart : and 
ye shall find rest unto your souls,' Matt. xi. 29. And again, 
i If I, your Lord and Master, have washed vour feet, ye 

2 Q 2 



462 

also ought to wash one another's feet, 5 John xiii. 14. The 
king of Zion came unto her, not only just and having salva- 
tion but also lowly ; and every part of his deportment cor- 
responded with that of his riding upon an ass, and upon a 
colt the foal of an ass, Ztch. ix. 9. 

Gentleness also was to form a part of the character of 
the Messiah. 6 A bruised reed shall he not break, and the 
smoaking flax shall he not quench/ Isai. xlii. 3. — This 
was so much the character of Jesus, that it even became 
proverbial. Hence Paul said to the Corinthians, 6 Now 
I Paul myself beseech you by the meekness and gentleness 
of Christ,' 2 Cor. x. 1. 

To gentleness he was to add kindness and compassion. 
* He shall feed his flock like a shepherd : he shall gather 
the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and 
shall gently lead those that are with young,' Isai. xl. 1 1. — 
Christ was 6 the good shepherd, who gave his life for the 
sheep/ John x. 11. 

This was compassion like a God, 

That when the Saviour knew 
The price of pardon was his blood, 

Kis pity ne'er withdrew. 

Yet this excellent personage was to be despised and per- 
secuted by his cotemporaries. He was to be i despised 
and rejected of mem a man ot sorrows, and acquainted with 
grief ;' and after he had suffered every indignity and cru- 
elty which the wickedness of men could devise, he was to 
be put to death. See Isai. liii. — All this was accomplished 
in the person of the Saviour. But it was ' not for himself/ 
Ban. ix. 26. It was our griefs which he bore, and our 
sorrows which he carried. 4 He was wounded for our 
transgressions; he was bruised for our iniquities; the 
chastisement of our peace was upon him ; and with his 
stripes we are healed/ Isai. liii. 5. 

The different stages of the sufferings of the Messiah 
were predicted by the prophets, and the suffe: ings of Je- 
sus exactly correspond with their predictions. — The con- 
spiracy cf the rulers against him. i The kings of the earth 



463 



set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together against 
the Lord, and against his anointed, saying, Let us break 
their bands asunder, and cast away their cords from us,' 
Ps. ii. 2-, 3 — The treachery of Judas. ' It was not an ene- 
my that reproached me, then I could have, borne it ; nei- 
ther was it he that hated me that did magnify himself 
against me, then I would have hid myself from him : but 
it was thou, a man mine equal, my guide, and mine ac- 
quaintance,' Ps.lv. 12, 13. — The price for which he was 
sold. 4 They weighed for my price thirty pieces of silver,' 
Zech. xi. 12. — What became of it. ' And the Lord said 
unto me, Cast it unto the potter ; a goodly price that I was 
prized at of them. And I took the thirty pieces of silver, 
and cast them to the potter in the house of the Lord,' Zech. 
xi. 13. The chief priests bought with the thirty pieces of 
silver the potter's held to bury strangers in, Matt, xxvii, 
7. — The flight of the disciples. 4 Awake, O sword, against 
my shepherd, and against the man that is my fellow, saith 
the Lord of hosts : smite the shepherd, and the sheep shall 
be scattered,' Zech. xiii. 7. When Jesus was apprehend- 
ed, 4 all the disciples forsook him and fled,' Matt, xxvi. 56. 
— His patience under the most cruel treatment before 
Caiphas and Pilate. 4 I gave my back to the smiters, and 
my cheeks to them that plucked off the hair ; I hid not 
my face from shame and spitting,' Isai. 1. 6. — His silence 
in the presence of his judges. 4 He was oppressed and he 
was afilicted, yet he opened not his mouth : he is brought as 
a lamb to the slaughter ; and as a sheep before her shear- 
ers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth,' Isai. liii. 7. — 
The rage of his enemies. Pilate wished to chastise him. 
and to let him go. But the mob 4 were instant with 
loud voices, requiring that he might be crucified. And 
the voices of them and of the chief priests prevailed, 5 
Luke xxiii. 23. Well might the Messiah say, 4 Many 
bulls have compassed me : strong bulls of Bash an have 
beset me round. They gaped upon me with their mouths, 
as a ravening and a roaring lion,' Ps. xxii. 12, 13. 
— The parting of his garments, and the casting of lots for 



464 



Ins vesture. ( They part my garments among them, and 
cas lots upon my vesture/ Ps. xxii. 18. — The death by 
which he should die. 4 The assembly of the wicked have 
enclosed me : they pierced my hands and my feet,' Ps. 
xxii 16 — -his excruciating pain, when the cross was rais- 
ed from its horizontal position, and was fixed in the ground. 
1 I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of 
joint/ Ps. xxii. 14. — His violent thirst. ' My strength is 
dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue cleave th to my 
jaws,' Ps. xxii. 15. — The cruel aggravation of his suffer- 
ings by his enemies. 4 They gave me also gall for my 
meat ; and in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink,' 
Ps. lxix. 21. — The desertion of him by his friends. 4 I 
looked for some to take pity, but there was none ; and 
for comforters, but I found none,' Ps. lxix. 20- — The 
insults of the spectators. 4 All they thatsee me, laugh 
me to scorn. They shoot out the lip, they shake the 
head, saying, He trusted on the Lord that he would 
deliver him : let him deliver him, seeing he delight- 
ed in him, Ps, xxii 7,^8. 4 They that passed by reviled 
him, wagging their heads,' Matt, xxvii. 39. 4 The chief 
priests mocking him, with the scribes and elders, said, He 
saved others ; himself he cannot save. If he be the king 
of Israel, let him now come down from the cross, and we 
will believe him. He trusted in God ; let him deliver him 
now, if he will have him,' 'Matt, xxvii. 41. 43. — Amid all 
this, his making ' intercession for the transgressors,' Isai. 
liii. 12 4 Father, forgive them, for they know not what 
they do,' Luke xxiii. 34. — His prayer to God, occasioned 
by that apparent desertion, which constituted an essential, 
and perhaps the principal part of his sufferings. 4 My 
God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me V Ps. xxii. 1. — 
His dying words. 4 Into thine hand i commit my spirit/ 
Ps. xxxi. 5.— His crucifixion between two malefactors, 
and his burial in the grave of a rich man. 4 He maue his 
grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death/ 
Isai. liii. 9. 

Thus was the Messiah brought 4 into the dust of death,' 



465 



Ps. xxii. 15. But, notwithstanding f the sorrows of death 
compassed him, God heard his voice out of his temple, 
and his cry came before bim. Then the earth shook and 
trembled. He bowed the heavens also, and came down. 
He sent from above ; he took him ; he drew him out of 
many waters. He brought him forth also into a large 
place : he delivered him, because he delighted in him, Ps. 
xviii. He did not leave his soul in the invisible world ; 
neither did he suffer his holy One to see corruption, Ps> 
xvi. 10. 

Having continued with his disciples forty days, i he as- 
cended on high ; he led captivity captive ; he received 
gifts for men, yea, for the rebellious also, that the Lord 
God might dwell among them, Ps. lxviii. 18 4 God went 
up with a shout ; the Lord with the sound of a trumpet, 5 
Ps. xlvii. 5. The gates of heaven lifted up their heads, and 
the everlasting doors were lifted up, that the Lord of 
hosts might come in/ Ps. xxiv. He entered into the pre- 
sence of God, where there is fulness of joy ; and sat at his 
right hand, where there are pleasures for evermore, Ps, 
xvi. 11. 

6 Seeing then that we have a great high priest that is 
passed into the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold 
fast our profession,' Heb. iv. 14. I pray, my beloved 
daughter, that you and I, and your dear Mother, may not 
be of them who draw back unto perdition ; for then only 
shall we be made partakers of the heavenly crown, if we 
persevere unto the end. 

Your mother's letter will contain an account of every 
thing that has occurred since you left us. 

We shall continue to remember you constantly at the 
throne of grace, and we entreat you to pray constantly 
for us. 

Do not fail to let us hear frequently from you. 
I ever remain, my dearest Sophia, 

Your affectionate father, 
ABRAHAM LEVI. 



466 



LETTER XCIX. 

From Mrs. JSfervitle to Mrs, JVorthi?igtcn- 

DEAR MADAM, 

Your letter gave us great pleasure. 

I was already happy ; but the consent of my dear aunt 
to reside either with us. or near us, is no small addition to 
my happiness. I pray that the divine blessing may accompa- 
ny this event, and that many years of health and of increas- 
ing felicity may be granted to you by our heavenly Be- 
nefactor. 

My dear aunt may possibly feel some surprise when I 
inform her, that next Lord's day Mr. Neville, the two Mr. 
Cliffords. Signior Albino, Maria and Eusebia, and my dear 
Mr. Neville and myself, are to be baptized, and added to 
the church under the care of Mr Lowe. I am aware that 
in this particular we must act without your example, and 
probably without your full approbation. We hope, how- 
ever, you will give us credit for having carefully examined 
the New Testament on the subject, and for acting ac- 
cording to our conviction. 

Being desirous of walking in communion with a Chris- 
tian church, it occurred to me I believe, first, as a previous 
question, whether I had yet been baptized ; and consequent- 
ly whether, according to the New Testament, I could be 
denominated a visible Christian, and entitled to partake of 
thos^ ordinances which are peculiar to, a visible church. 
For a while I kept my thoughts to myself; but being 
more and more convinced of the invalidity of infant bap- 
tism, I opened my mind to my dear Mr. N. He soon men- 
tioned it to the rest of our friends, and so the subject be- 
came a matter of serious consideration and inquiry. Not 
one among us could bear to reason in the manner of some, 
that baptism w#s not essential to salvation, and was there- 
fore of small importance. Neither durst we dismiss the 
subject, lest it should affect our fellowship with godly 



467 



Pxdobaptists. On this point I well remembered many 
of your conversations, in which you expressed your high 
esteem for many godly Episcopalians, from whom never- 
thelesss you were obliged to stand aloof in the article of 
communion, lest you should countenance even a brother 
in what you considered to be wrong. The result was, 
that after much prayer, and serious examination, we were 
all of one mind, that at present we were unbaptized, and 
that, as no church acting up to the apostolic example could 
receive us into communion in our present state, it was our 
duty to be baptized without delay, according to the order 
which we conceived to be plainly taught in the New Tes- 
tament. 

It is not for me to instruct one so much my superior in 
age, in wisdom, and in Christian experience : but my dear 
aunt will permit me to intreat her to reconsider the sub- 
ject, and to examine whether it be not a necessary conse- 
quence arising from the general principle which runs 
through all her valuable letters, that positive institutions re- 
quire to be authorized by positive precepts or example. 

If we durst flatter ourselves with the hope of seeing 
her, whom we all so highly esteem, becoming one with us 
in the most intimate Christian fellowship, great would be 
the addition to our joy. If, however, my dear aunt cannot 
come into our views, there are three Psedobaptist churches 
within less than ten miles of Thornton, and every accom- 
modation will be afforded her. 

Mr. Neville's health is fully restored ; and he enjoys as 
much happiness, both in his own breast and in his family, 
as the present world, of which all the jots are mixed with 
trouble, will admit. 

A union is likely to take place in a month or five weeks 
between Mr. C. Clifford and our beloved Eusebia. Can 
you bring your affairs at Islington so nearly to a close 
before that time as to be present at the wedding ? It 
would very much add to the happiness of the day If 
you will let us know a few days beforehand, Mr. Neville 
and myself will go to Islington to accompany you ciowr* 



468 

Perhaps Miss Levi will accompany us. SJhe is a sweet- 
tempered girl, and fears God. You will be greatly delight- 
ed with her manners, and her conversation. 
All our friends unite in the kindest respects to you with, 
My dear aunt. 

Your ever affectionate niece, 
MIRANDA NEVILLE, 



THE JEXD. 



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